Coke

Coke: (n) A popular short term for the popular soft drink Coca Cola.

I had an explanation. I really did.

I did not wish to share it because it made me look wimpy. I don’t like to look wimpy. I don’t think I’m alone in this. All of us want to appear noble, brave and strong.

Yet a bit of wimpy lives inside each of us, and jumps out at the wrong moments, exposing us for the sniveling cowards we are.

For years I refused to drink Coca-Cola–or as my friends called it, Coke. Every once in a while I got challenged.

“Hey, man, what’s with you and the Coke thing?”

I would put on my face–a combination of perturbed and surprised. “What do you mean–Coke thing?”

This aggravated the questioner. He or she followed up by saying, “You know–the fact that you never drink Coke.”

It was an easy accusation to side-step. “I do. You just don’t see me.”

But the truth is, they were right. I did not drink Coke. I wanted to, but I desired a drink which could be guzzled–and only certain carbonated beverages could be consumed that way without burning your throat and making you cough. I was not about to share that Coke was too strong for me.

So one day, in a fit of determination to achieve normalcy, and having completed some exercise which left me hot, sweaty and thirsty, I grabbed a bottle of Coke, tilted it back and began to swill.

About three seconds into the process the Cola burned my throat. I choked and spit it out in all directions. This created alarm and humor from all bystanders. I was completely emasculated.

After the laughter calmed down, a friend took me to the side and said, “Listen. Between you and me–Coke is too hot. So here’s what I do. When they offer me a bottle of Coke, I hold it behind my back and shake it up, life my thumb from its place on the top and let off some of the steam and carbonation. I do that about three times, so when I put the Coke to my mouth and down it, I look like one of the guys.”

I was so relieved. I followed the idea completely. He was right. It worked. I was able to slurp my Coke with a big gulp. It was a little flat, having lost its carbonation.

Wait a second…

Maybe that’s how they came up with RC Cola.

 

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Booze

Booze: (n) alcohol, especially hard liquor.

“A small piece of cake.”Dictionary B

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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Aunt

Aunt: (n) the sister of one’s father or mother or the wife of one’s uncle.

dictionary with letter AThe value of one’s relationship with an aunt is based upon the quality of the memories they have with your mother and father.

I wish I would have known that.

I had some pretty pukey aunts.They would not agree with that, I’m sure, but since they’re dead, I will risk offending their consciousness.

They were picky, they were self-righteous or they were completely disengaged.

I took it personally.

Being a kid, I tried to please them because I heard rumors at school about kids who had great aunts. Matter of fact, the abiding notion was that aunts were nicer than parents, or even grandparents, because they had so little invested in the future of the prodigy.

But my aunts were toads–and I don’t mean good toads. They just kind of sat there and peered at me, waiting for me to be either too loud or unmannerly.

Now that I’m older, I realize that these aunts didn’t have anything against me–they just didn’t like my mom and dad. So they decided to take it out on me.

After all, I was the swill that came from their bog.

I was the offspring of these people who the aunts had found fault with for years, had developed grudges against, and now persisted into the next generation.

I didn’t know this at the time. I thought I was perniciously ugly, fatally stupid or satanically infested.

It’s a good idea, if you happen to be an aunt and you’re pissed off at your sister or brother, to try to work that out with them and not pass the anger onto the kids.

Because in the long run, a good aunt is a treasure.

But a bad aunt would be better off living on the moon.

 

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