I've managed to avoid the late-evening hangover despite stopping drinks after a vast binge over the course of the day. My family's never been able to deal with each other so we all just get drunk. Except my cousin Sheena, much put-upon as she is, who was running around doing everything and getting yelled at and trying to not kill anybody. Sheena's my favourite cousin. Mum was drunk. Auntie Sue was drunk. Granny was drunk. Granddad was happy but not drunk either because he had to drive, although he did drink. He's also six foot five and far too big for a glass of wine to count. He's the one that looked identical to me, apparently, when he was my age. I've seen pictures, and it's all a lie!
I can't remember the official name for orange juice and champagne. We had it with breakfast and my granny kept making comments about how much Mum was drinking, which she likes to bring up as her way of commenting on why my parents' marriage broke up (i.e. Mum fucked it all up). Insert shots of Ben trying not to backhand her Jackie-Chan-Style. You know, evil Jackie-Chan-Style. And I also caught hell for drinking a Hermann's from the bottle with lunch, to which I replied, "Sorry, I'm just common." Sorry that I'd rather not dirty a glass with my foul beer.
Mum gets incredibly hyperactive and giggly and loud when she's drunk. It's sort of surreal. But she wasn't driving tonight so, whatever. She had a good time and was too drunk to give into the games that get played. The kids - my cousin, me, the two pseudo-non-step-cousins from "Uncle" George's first marriage - hid down in the basement eventually and flailed for a while.
Nobody noticed me doing shots of amaretto at the dinner table. It's moments like that which make me wish Joy was around.