What your drink says about you, Part 2

                There’s an old saying that I once heard, “you are what you eat.”  So, it would stand to reason that you are what you drink, as well.  I hope it’s not entirely true, otherwise I am a giant monster made out of spaghetti and coca-cola.  And last night I was a gelatinous blob of Jose Cuervo.

                When I worked at Starbucks, I could usually tell what a customer was going to order based on their appearance.  14-year old black girls usually got caramel frappucinos with extra whip cream and extra caramel.  Asians usually got green tea lattes.  50-year old skinny white ladies always got non-fat lattes.  And anyone who came in without shoes or reeked of urine usually just wanted water. 

                Now I know, I know, this might be considered “profiling,” or “offensive.”  But I think it should be called “genius” and “hilarious.”  And, as I transitioned from the crazy loons addicted to coffee, to the crazy loons addicted to alcohol, I noticed that there are a few trends with the alcoholics as well.  And so, I started compiling a list.  It’s a “what your drink says about you” list. 

                If you find my thoughts on this matter offensive, well, then you can go suck it. 

                Or have another shot.  It gets better when you’re drunk.  Most things do.

                Vodka Soda—this is the type of person that enjoys the taste of booze.  Congratulations, sir, you are an alcoholic.  You’re the guy who runs into the bar before his AA meeting and downs one of these because you know it won’t leave your breath smelling completely like alcohol.  And then you run in after your meeting for a couple drinks before you have to head back to your sober living housing.  Chew a lemon rind, it also helps with alcohol breath, you alchy. 

                Cuba Libre without a Lime—you’re an idiot.

                Stella—you’re a fucking hipster.  Your pants are too tight, and you’re wearing too much eyeliner.  You just drink this because you think it makes you look cool.  It doesn’t.  Well, ok, it makes you look a little cool.

                “Dark Beer” or “ale”—you’re probably from the Northwest, like Portland or Seattle.  Or you think you’re too good for a bottle of Bud.  Or you’re a lesbian.  Probably a lesbian.  Either way, you definitely own lots of flannel.

                Anything that starts with Glen (Glenfiddich, Glenlivet)—get off your high horse.  You’re at a bar, leave your fancy ass shit for your fancy dinner parties, you rich old man.  I’m so happy that you like the finer things in life, but really, calm down.  Either that, or you’re a fucking badass chick, and you probably have huge tits.  Kudos to you ma’am, I hope you get laid tonight.

                Wine—who the fuck orders wine at a bar?  It doesn’t make you classy, especially if you can’t even pronounce whatever wine you are ordering correctly.  Oh, and to the lady who orders a “white chardonnay,”  THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A RED CHARDONNAY.  YOU DON’T HAVE TO SPECIFY THE COLOR.  And the “t” in “pinot” is silent.  And finally, if you are ordering wine with ice…that just makes you an extra level of classy, now doesn’t it?

                Champagne—hoooooooomo.   You, sir, are a homosexual.  Or it’s some birthday party, or bachelorette party, or some sort of celebration.  But if you aren’t celebrating, and ordering champagne, you are a big, giant, homo. 

                (as a side note, I LOVE champagne.)

                Water—just leave.  What the fuck are you doing at a bar if you aren’t drinking?  Go back to AA you quitter. 

                Jager Bomb—the only people who seem to order these are frat boys, and middle aged men trying to relive their glory days.  Or me.  Either way, maaaaan are you going to regret drinking that. 

                Belvedere Vodka—seriously?  You’re too good for Grey Goose?  You aren’t Chelsea Handler, you know you can’t taste the difference between this and Absolut, and you know you’re just ordering this to look cool.  Too bad looking cool costs so much?  Especially since you’re probably at one of those fancy bars, like the Abbey.  Y’all can keep your Belvedere, I’ll stick with my Ketel One.

So there we have the next installment of my highly scientific, politically correct list.  I hope this is of value to you all. 

                Class dismissed.