Day 153: TEQUILA!

My friend Crystal is from Saskatchewan and she likes to party. I worked with her at TAG Advertising last year. Every couple of months or so, the TAG crew gets together at the Ship & Anchor for burgers and fries. (Boogers and flies, as I like to call them.) And EVERY TIME, Crystal secretly orders a round of tequila shots. Every. Time.

What also happens every time is that I go into a deep state of tequila denial. Deep down, I reject the notion that she will force me to knock back a shooter at 1 pm on a Wednesday and so, I order a beer. Because burgers and beers go together so nicely. So I've got a pint of beer in me by the time the tequila shows up and I am scuh-REWED for the rest of the day.

You'd think you could Just Say No to Crystal's uncanny manipulative powers. But you're wrong. You're drinking that tequila whether you like it or not. Peer pressure: not just for teenagers any more.

But, part of TAG's mystique is an ethos of dogged hard work and grotesque amounts of overtime. So our lunches barely last an hour. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am – I'm drunk as a lord and they're back at their desks. I don't know how they function. And I can't exactly sit there in a scuzzy pub booth by myself for two hours until I can see straight.

So this time, I went easy on the beer, drinking so slowly, I ended up leaving half the pint on the table. (Some people call this alcohol abuse.) And then I did the sneaky trick I worked out after one too many drunken afternoon naps in the TAG bathroom. This trick is called 'Pour Tequila On My Salad.'

While everyone else's head is tossed back in full shooter glory, I dump half my booze into my salad bowl. Then I make a big show of groaning in tequila-gunshot-wound agony and sucking on the lime. Works every time.

And for those who must know, the answer is YES it's worth paying $5 for a shooter I didn't shoot. Crystal scares me.