I don’t typically overindulge in alcoholic libations in excess but this past Christmas was an exception. I truly excelled at my potential for overconsumption. It all started with one dreary night….naw, not really. It all started when I discovered that I really – I mean REALLY – like the whiskey Fireball. Cursed drink!!! My father (Pops) also discovered, upon my constant goading, that he too likes Fireball, though I think his fondness for the drink surpasses mine.

Allow me to back track a bit. I typically host most of the holidays throughout the year, partly because I think my family is lazy and they know I will always step up and do them when no one else will – well not this time. This time, I am planning my birthday, which is 6 days before Christmas. The hubby has been out of town for work since September so I decided that I would throw my own party rather than rolling my birthday into Christmas. I was going big…well big according to me which just includes my family of 12. Rager, right? My birthday party is the reason for my love affair with Fireball; it was to be our first encounter. It began so innocently, I was looking for some fun things to drink and do shots with rather than drink my usual boring wine. Oh I remember it so well, it was so yummy and it sent a nice warm tingle to my belly. I was doomed.

I was so consumed with planning my party, getting kids to finish out their school semester strongly before Winter break, and dealing with my husband’s absence that I didn’t care which one of my relatives was hosting Christmas. I was glad that I finally wasn’t and that I could just sit back and relax come Christmas day, and that is exactly what I did. Upon arriving at my brothers, I was quickly offered a glass of wine and another and another – I remember those. I also remember the first 5 or so shots of Fireball. What I don’t remember is what came next. I apparently had way too much to drink and I am told that most of my consumption was done well before 4pm – remember I don’t drink much, so 4pm is usually when I may have my first glass of wine. HOLY CRAP…I had a lot to drink and so did Pops (hee hee…he’s a lot of fun when he drinks. I am told that I am a lot of fun too. Good to know.) Here is a quick list of things that I don’t recall happening:

1. Gift exchange: we had one? Oh, I got something too.
2. Dinner: what did we eat, better yet, did I eat? Oh, right, I spewed wine all over my plate. I remember that.
3. I did what? I raced the Rhino (ORV) down the street in my flip flops. Did I win?
4. I mopped up the floor with the dog. Apparently, I don’t know how to fill up a water bottle from the fridge.
5. Wait, I am really LOUD? No way, not possible. Really? Hmm, also good to know.

I do remember having a great time. By around 6pm I was drinking water – a lot of water – and I remember stuff from the evening, but the day is quite blurry. I woke up the next morning perfectly fine and to some very interesting presents…a miniature replica of Ebbets Field – what the fudge?

Here’s the bombshell – yes I still love Fireball, but even better, my drunk self took some pictures. I found them two months after the fact when I was snapping photos of my son’s birthday cake. I was scrolling back and found some of my lost memories – my hubby did a great job of capturing me at my finest (not really). And I managed to capture the dog smooshed to the floor while I used it to clean up the water – explains why that dog runs from me now.

My names Jen and I love FIREBALL!!!!!