Guess where I'm drinking?

Guess where I'm drinking?
Lori Midson

Back in high school, I had a little episode involving vodka and pig -- as in I drank too much vodka during a "liquid lunch" and subsequently puked on a fetal pig in biology class, right after I proclaimed my love for Mr. Svenson and his Harley. My punishment was a week at home to think about that poor pig and how I further contributed to his needless demise.

To this day, I still fear vodka, but over the weekend, while rooting on the Broncos from a bar that's nowhere near my stomping ground, I was tempted to try the house-infused vodka submerged with fruits -- kiwi, strawberry, mango, raspberry, orange, mango,  grapefruit and grapes -- because, well, it was fruit, and I hadn't had my serving for the day. So I asked for a small taste, and the bartender gave me a shot, which was more than generous. But I stopped there and went back to my Tecate, because Tecate and I have a close relationship. We can depend on each other. I trust it.

The vodka was delicious (albeit a little sweet), but I knew I'd be far better off leaving that kind of hardcore drinking to all of you. Nail the bar where I was drinking, and it's all yours.


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