Booze: (n) alcohol, especially hard liquor.
Being an obese man for most of my life, I have used that phrase over and over again.
When offered the confection at a wedding or a birthday party, in order to communicate to those around me that I am in total control of my appetites, I ask for a small piece of cake.
Then I usually follow the cutter over and watch carefully, whispering in their ear, “Just a little more than that.”
Why? Because I don’t want a small piece of cake, but can’t admit it openly without appearing to be “Gluttonous Maximus.”
I laugh at myself.
It’s the same tickle I get in my soul when I realize that the young folks around me who talk about “a glass of wine with dinner” or “a beer with pizza” are often finding themselves moving on to a cocktail, an evening of drinking and eventually, just having to admit they love their booze.
Since alcohol is not particularly tasty, and normally used for cuts and bruises, the motivation for drinking it is at least an acquired sensibility–an agreement to tolerate the swill to achieve a sensation.
Now, I have to admit that I am a tee-totaler, so my opinion has to be viewed as obsessed with prejudice.
But it is astounding that the difference between “a glass of wine with dinner” and “booze” can simply be the time we have on our hands, our perception of our problems, or whether some friend is willing to sit down…and get sloshed with us.
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PoHymn: A Rustling in the Stagnant