My First Bartending Job

Many of you already know I have a natural talent to a delicious drink from time to time. Some of the drinks are usually even thought of on the spot and they still come out fantastic.

Now, I'm sure you're all thinking "Lo, stop being so full of yourself someone had to teach you!" You know what? You're absolutely right.

My mother taught me how to be a bartender.

 I used to watch her make all kinds of drinks, and I loved it! If it wasn't for her, I could not make a Martini, Bloody Mary, Mojito, Margarita, and so many other drinks that she would make based on her alcoholic mood.

Here's how it all happened.

When I was about12 years old, my mom and grandmother spent their weeknights drinking a variety of cocktails (or if they were classy, Franzia), screaming at Judge Judy at the television screen. Sometimes doing homework was a chore just from the fact it was nearly impossible to cut out the noise. Have you ever heard two black women scream at a court show? It's exactly like a chicken coup without the infectious diseases.

So like any other day after school,  I am sitting in the dining room writing out my weekly spelling words. My mother is relaxed on the sofa as my grandmother sits in her favorite chair. I'm pretty sure this day was the Limeade and vodka day. "LAUREN!" my mother hollers because she is unaware that I am 10 feet away from her. I approach her and asks what she needs. She maintains her gaze at the television and shows me her empty glass. "Honey can you refill my drink?" Immediately I feel some sort of excitement. I realize that I get to touch the mysterious blue bottle, with the fun stuff. This has to mean that I am old and mature enough to drink it.

Approaching the kitchen with the empty glass at hand, I hear my mother and grandmother bicker about my  mom's decision to avoid a battle with laziness, and use me as a vice for her creation to her second cocktail. I ignore it as well, because I'm excited to do it. I felt a sense of purpose, a way to help ease my mom's stress, a way to get my mom drunk so she can go to bed early and I can watch "Real Sex" on HBO (sorry mom).

 As I open the fridge, the biggest smile paints my face as I grab the pitcher of limeade and place it right next to the vodka on the kitchen counter. I clasp my hands together as my angelic smile transforms itself into an evil grin. The bottle is in my hands and I just watch the clear liquid splash as soon as it impacts the bottom of the glass. I am so mesmerized by the fact that it's clear, has no scent to it, and it almost appears to be invisible, that I don't notice how much vodka I am putting in. "OH GOD I DON'T WANNA KILL HER!". So I stop were I am and just throw the limeade in to fill it up as much to the top as possible, thinking that it may help. 

I slowly walk up to my mother, hand her her drink, she sips it, turns over to me and goes

"It's not very strong"

So I pour out some of the drink (Cardinal rule #1, drink it down, don't pour it down) and added a lot more vodka.

This time there was about half vodka and half limeade. I pass the drink over to my mother. She merely shrugs and says

"It'll do"

My grandmother asks to try some. She took two sips and passed out.

It was then that I realized my mother can drink, which can only mean one thing.