You Deserve a Drink: Boozy Misadventures and Tales of Debauchery (31 page)

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Mom! Obviously this is a drastic comparison. You know it drives me crazy how you pronounce “breakfast” like “breakfrast” and make light sex noises while you eat, but you also know I
adore you
.

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I was probably hoping it was a coupon for a free Wendy’s Frosty.

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An idea and the four whiskey gingers I’d been sipping on.

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This was BS: Before Smartphones.

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I still go there about once a year to see my old camp friends. In fact, I am writing this chapter from that very lake house right now. Dat shit cray.

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Is it me, or did Hayley Mills with short hair look exactly like Anthony Michael Hall? This is not talked about enough.

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How the hell hasn’t Hamburger Helper made a line of products called Hangover Helper? That marketing team needs to hire some young, hip newcomer with fresh ideas.

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I like to think the maxi-pad torch was a symbol of femininity, setting fire to the constraints of feminine hygiene products. But really, desperate times called for desperate measures, and there was always a surplus of pads lying around.

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If you haven’t YouTubed that, go forth as soon as you finish this chapter.

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You might be thinking,
Jesus, Mamez, between the armory story and this, what is your obsession with wrestling?
What can I say? There was a tag team in the ’80s called the Hart Foundation that wore hot pink singlets. Having a first name like Mamrie, you get attached to things with at least your last name in common.

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If you would like to know the extent of how
not
into scary stuff I am, I once had to turn off Wallace and Gromit’s
The Curse of the Were-Rabbit
because I got too scared. Scared of a Claymation rabbit that destroyed people’s gardens. It’s that bad.

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This is in no way proven, but I stand by it.

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Katy Perry, you know I love you, girl, and you know I have a special place in my heart for cupcake bras, but Diamond Dave will always be the master of songs about ladies from Cali.

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Whoever decided that darts are a good game to play in a bar is a goddamn crazy person. If I see there are people playing darts in the same bar as me, I don’t care if they are forty yards away—I savor my beer like it’s my last, ’cause all I can picture is a dart going straight into my jugular like I’m a lion being tranquilized.

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For those keeping track, you can also add
The X-Files
to the list of Things Mamrie Is Irrationally Terrified Of.

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I adore you, Marie, and I’m sorry about that one time I bought your teenage son beer.

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Krackel bars come only in those bags of miniature candy, right? There aren’t normal-size Krackel bars sold on candy shelves. So, riddle me this, how the hell is it a miniature? If it’s the only kind, wouldn’t a miniature be the size of a Tic Tac? Boom. In your fucking face, Milton S. Hershey.

*
Not true.
Sorry, FedEx Gary.

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I never understood the lyrics “If I wanna floss, I got my own.” I get that
floss
means “to flaunt,” but to me it always just sounded like J.Lo was dating a neglectful orthodontist.

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Everyone knows a New Year’s Eve hand job should be rewarded with at least lunch at Fuddruckers or a Bath & Body Works gift card.

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Foreshadowing, kids. And I ain’t talking about a kind of makeup technique.

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