By Beauty Damned

Cocktails & Dirty

I've always loved making cocktails. Never been a bartender, but I like to have a stocked liquor cabinet and mixing drinks for my friends. I like to experiment. Not the way Rob likes to experiment, throwing things together all helter skelter, creating a similar affect to the one that occurs when you mix every primary color together and make something that resembles muddy water. His "muddy water" usually comes out with a deadly alcohol content. He has taken bartending courses in the past, but once he starts getting creative it might not be pretty. I have a more innately meticulous approach. I favor vodka, white rum and various liqeurs and infused spirits. I almost always pass on gin or scotch, but other than that, I've been known to mix some tasty drinks with whatever is available. I still don't know how to feel about my Tuaca and lemon iced tea mixture. They go well together, but I still feel sort of weird about drinking canned iced tea with any liquor. I have to admit I've always been fairly indiscriminate about alcohol. But I really draw the line at gin. That shit is disgusting and terrible for you. And I despise the taste of scotch and whiskey.

Last night Kat invited me to go to a film screening in Chelsea, but it was short notice and I didn't feel like rushing back to Manhattan, so instead I chose to spend the evening with myself, doing whatever struck my fancy. After one Tuaca with Nestea (I know, I know. It sounds terrible. Seriously though, it's not bad if you just throw them together with some ice in a shaker, shake the shit out of it and pour it into a martini glass. It's no good to drink with the ice in it, but it may be okay if you used real fresh-made iced tea.) It's a dangerous mixture though. Tuaca can really kick your ass. Which is why I mixed it with iced tea, because drinking it straight can seem like a good idea, and granted, it's perfect for shots when you're out drinking, but it's serious business. So I drank that little Tuaca-tail without having any dinner in my stomach. Hmmm. Time to get with the program. Took a quick walk down to Pete's Pizzaria - hey it was Friday - and sat down to two slices of pepperoni and a glass of root beer. I love their pizza with a passion. I watched the olympic swimming competition on TV while inhaling both slices.

When I left Pete's, I walked down to the bodega to get some coffee for the morning and managed to talk myself into stopping next door at my local bar for a corona to top off the pizza. I haven't been in for months. Place gets old freakin quick, but it's the only alternative to all the meatmarkets in my neighborhood. The only people in there were Kevin the bartender, and some jerky who hangs out there regularly for years and talks at top volume through his huge graucho face. He gets mighty obnoxious when he's drunk. And it was early. He honestly looks like he's wearing one of those Graucho Marx masks, except that he's a really big guy with a thick head of steeley grey hair, and his glasses, gargantuan schnoz and equally proportionate mustache are not a mask, but actually belong to his face.

The conversation was pretty casual at first. I like Kevin. He's my favorite bartender there because he adds good music to the jukebox and is a down to earth, decent person. I sat and talked to them for about a half hour before the conversation found it's way to women and dating. We were mostly talking about the expectations that are placed on women as they get older, to stay beautiful, whereas men don't face the same type of pressure. They just move on to younger women. Graucho shared a little too much information when he came out and informed us that he treats himself to a 20-year-old hooker at least once a month. "It's a hundred and fifty dollars, I get a girl who's 20 years old and she does what I tell her to do." I had to admire his honesty, but I was also a little grossed out by the entire image of some poor young maiden being required to have sex with this schlub, much less taking orders from him, so I took the opportunity to excuse myself to the restroom. When I came back, he was finishing up telling Kevin about how it feels kind of wrong. Kevin said "Yeah. Like you're taking advantage?" And Graucho said "Yeah, maybe, or just like, I get something out of it and she doesn't. It just feels kind of wrong."

I have slightly mixed feelings about the whole prostitution thing. I hate the thought of young girls walking the street, being exposed to extreme danger such as rape, assault, diseases and death. I hate the thought of any person selling their body to afford drugs or alcohol. I think that in a controlled and safe environment like a legitimately operated whorehouse, I don't really object to it as much. It still kinda grosses me out. I'm sorry. I just think it's sad that any woman would have to sacrifice her own dignity in that way, but in that context I view it more as a personal choice. Walking the streets just seems like a terrible idea any way you look at it. I feel similarly about pornography. At the same time that it would never be a personal choice that I would make for myself to be involved in pornography, I don't feel right in condemning others that do, whether it be stripping, hardcore film or whatever else. I do think that women in that business need to take more control and demand better treatment. But then again, it's not exactly a business you get into for the integrity and respect you receive from your employees and co-workers. I'm interested in what my readers think of prostitution and pornography.

I didn't stop and judge this man for sharing this piece of information about himself. He was drunk and being honest and revealed a darker side, so whatever. Then we moved on to talking about homeopathic and natural healing. That's when he started insisting on all kinds of things he knew nothing about. When I let him know that I wasn't interested in having a conversation about the merit of homeopathic remedies with a person who was totally uneducated on the subject and had never himself had any encounters with homeopathic healing or those who subscribe to that form of medicinal treatment, he became extremely surly with me and told me I'm stupid. Men sometimes do this. Sometimes get angry with women when they assert their own knowledge and power and the man feels the need to crush the woman, so he hurls insults. It's a long held tradition of self entitled dominance. It took a lot of self control to suppress my natural instinct to throw my drink in his face after he called me stupid. But instead I just took one last sip of my beer, set it down and walked out, saying goodbye on my way out. That was quite enough of that business.

I went and bought a can of coffee and some dish soap, and walked home. That was all the excitement I was going to get on this Friday night.

Posted by Maria at August 21, 2004 01:51 PM