A Deep Discussion on Drinking

My buddy Murch and I were going back and forth with some text messages the other night. Each of us happened to be enjoying a few drinks alone and we were discussing seven or eight different topics. I thought I'd share one particular thread as it turned out to be quite amusing:

8:01:22 pm - Me: How much is too much to drink alone? I'm thinking I'll have two Jim Rome's and then move on to a few Jim Beam & Diet Coke's.

8:01:36 pm - Murch: As long as you can pour them without spilling you're golden.

9:38:11 pm - Me: I just spilled but it was. Only a little.

9:38:37 pm - Murch: Spills only count if its the whole fucking glass.

There is a lot of awesomeness going on here. I love the fact that it took Murch only 14 seconds to read my text and reply with such wisdom. I was also very amused that in roughly an hour and a half I drank enough to start spilling and texting erratically. In particular I enjoyed the accidental period in the middle of my text at 9:38:11 pm. The topper for me was the rationale and well placed F-Bomb in Murch's final text. Upon reading it I definitely spit a little of my drink all over our computer.

The Bobby Ayala

If you are a Seattle Mariners fan like me, you know who Bobby Ayala is. For those of you who aren't familiar (and also for my amusement) Bobby Ayala was a relief pitcher and occasional closer for Mariners back in the '90s and he sucked huge hairy sweaty donkey balls. When he came into a game, things got worse. Immediately. It was particularly painful to have an Ayala experience thrust upon you when the Mariners had a lead late in the game. The team would go through all this work to get a lead during the first seven or eight innings and then Ayala would come in and inevitably blow it. And he would typically blow it up like a volcano which always left me with a sour taste in my mouth. And also extremely pissed off that he just blew the entire night.


The reason I bring Ayala up is because a few years back my friend Hank and I were chatting and Hank tossed out the premise that Gin is the worst possible alcohol to take a shot of (I know you're not supposed to end a sentence with a preposition but I can't figure out any other way to word that sentence that doesn't make me sound like I'm from 200 years ago). We later agreed that the double shot of house Gin would be the ideal prescription to get someone to throw up at the tail end of a night of drinking.


This discussion led us to take the double shot of house Gin out for a couple test drives with a few drunken and chirpy friends. After a few laps the results were unequivocal and it was decided that it was full proof and a name was needed. By now you know that this kind of thing is right up my alley and I quickly came up with the official name: the Bobby Ayala.




The official definition of the Bobby Ayala: in the Seattle area a double shot of house Gin has come to be called The Bobby Ayala. Just as he used to ruin a perfectly good night of baseball entertainment, a liquid Bobby Ayala is sure to do the same for a nice night of drinking. It is almost guaranteed to end up on the sidewalk and is the perfect remedy for a slightly obnoxious drinking buddy.