The alcoholic who drank too little!

28 Oct

       Alcohol is a fundamental part of our human rights! It’s high up there on the list of compulsory rights like the right to own a mobile-phone and the right to be on facebook!
Men of old fought for honor and glory and celebrated with wine and women! Now we fight for money and respect but our means of celebration haven’t changed much! Imagine you, Noah, Hitler and Kunta Kinte drinking the same stuff. Course it’s gotten more refined and more expensive but just when wine-technology was advancing, people started craving the old stuff, calling it vintage! So why bother? If I had a casket of wine from Noah’s days, I’d probably be a f**king billionaire.

The first time I encountered the stuff was while I was still lost in my little amniotic sac, trying to decide if I wanted to be president or just commander in chief of the amniotic forces! My mom was not an alcoholic, No! I was her first child and a gift from God hence the name ‘Oghenekome’. It was my crafty paternal grandma, God bless her soul who initiated me into the world of highs and hangovers!
When my mom was heavily pregnant with me, she travelled to see mama and as soon as mama saw her round belly bursting with promise, she took a bottle of ogogoro and poured it out on her belly, blessing me in rapid Isoko. I almost was named Ogogo, but for my father who saved the day, deciding that his first daughter wouldn’t go the way of the bottle! I could’ve sworn my amniotic fluid got a minute diffusion of the conc stuff cos I came into the world strangely calm and the nurse swears my first cry sounded like Terry G’s free madness!

I tasted my first drop of alcohol at the tender age of 3. My dad loved 33 export lager beer, I can still remember the advert on tv. After he had been done entertaining some friends one beautiful day, I sneaked stealthily to the glasses on the stool and studied them for a while. My mum kept warning me not to take food from strangers and in my little mind I figured if I could decipher daddy’s cup I wouldn’t get koboko. Well that was almost impossible cos all the glasses looked alike so I picked the middle glass since it was near
daddy’s chair or just maybe because it was the only one with a sufficient amount of golden liquid to satisfy both my curiosity and inherent alcohol cravings. I was caught in the act and daddy was the only one that found it amusing, thankfully if not, this would have been a sad tale! From time to time he’d offer me a little sip. Love you daddy! 😉

My mom was always deeply religious, she still is. She preached against drinking alcohol saying we were a royal priesthood and bombarding us with scriptures. It worked for most of our formative and teen years cos she proudly reared sober children despite our occasional trips to daddy’s back cupboard. It was more for the adventure and risk of getting caught than for the genetic cravings we didn’t even know we had!

In the university, I was that chick that knew a hundred and one ways of sipping coke in a manner that looked like I was sipping a magarita! At clubs, I had coke-on-the-beach, coke-on-the rocks, coke orgasms and coke-mopolitan! All I needed was a tall glass my trusty dash of lime and lots of crushed ice. The bartendar would wink at me when I placed my order, never daring to question it. He didn’t need to cos I was always that chick who’d dance all night in six-inch stilletoes up until morning. I’d always been excitable and I daresay my adrenaline levels far exceeded normal limits, my mom always attributed it to the libation poured on her tummy preceding my arrival.
Sometimes I’d hear a person say to him, I’ll have what she’s having and he’d say ‘E don finish!’

In med school, my friend S loved her alcohol and she had this way of laughing without the slightest provocation when tipsy, it was so cute! Everyone loves a happy drunk. She always seemed to be cracking a secret joke and I always hoped if I ever got tipsy, I’d be like a lab scientist who accidentally inhaled nitrous oxide!
That was sadly never to be, the first time I got drunk was as a result of peer pressure from a boyfriend eager to see me explore my wild side. I was watching Final destination and as I sipped on my rum and coke, I wondered what all the fuss was about. I wasn’t gonna get drunk! Me, original waffi babe way dey use sepe wash mouth! Or so I thought… I decided to act drunk so my boyfriend wouldn’t be disappointed and as I got up to display, I did 360 degrees and fell right back on the couch. I was dazed, I felt like I was sitting on the bed watching my body display like a dog doing tricks! My boyfriend started to laugh, I’d made him sign a contract that he’d behave so I wondered what he planned to do with the rare opportunity! He asked me a question, can’t remember what exactly but I opened my mouth and open it stayed. I talked and talked and talked, intermittently staggering to the toilet to pee and talking non-stop as I went. I told him his flatmate was hitting on me, I told him I hated the Hawes&Curtis shirt he’d just bought. I told him I wanted to kiss a cute guy in my class (name witheld;-) )!
How I talked, alcohol had loosened my tongue, 45minutes later, I slept off and didn’t wake up till the next morning! I had a headache and I couldn’t remember much. All I knew from the neighbor’s gist was that he’d punched his flatmate and the guy was moving out! Not my fault right?
I stayed off the stuff for a while till one fateful night while playing truth or dare in a room with seven other people, I was dared to allow a guy ravish me for 10minutes! Hellooooo? Give the guy free access, E never even work for am! Mtchewww… Never!!! So I said No and the fine was downing a large glass of vodka! I whispered to my friends to make sure I got to my room safely and that’s the last I remember save for the fact that vodka is pronounced wodka and it wodkas my head mehn!!!

My next escapade involved champagne, I’d always been fascinated by the hype and since I was a late bloomer, my champagne popping days didn’t start till much later. The first time I popped a bottle. Actually they popped while I stood at a safe distance cos I have a fear of flying corks, bursting balloons and banger! Wonder what they all have in common?
Anyway as I was saying, the first time was at a socialite birthday bash and I was fronting to the max, there I was looking fly, sipping on my glass of champagne, life was good till I attempted to stand and fell back heavily on my chair! Now if getting knackered at a social event with media coverage is bad, then you’ll surely cringe cos next thing I knew I was fighting sleep. My lids were heavy, my body unresponsive and the chairman was making an important speech and my chair was right in front. Oh well…I’m not sure if my sleeping picture made it to City people but at least no one could accuse me for not closing my eyes to the paparazzi.

After that I discovered Irish cream and I was hooked!
Guys kept giving me bottles of the creamy stuff as complimentary gifts or maybe a desperate attempt to get me tipsy enough to get into bed with them but they never got to reap the rewards of their labor, guys chocolate would get you there faster! Science has proven that chocolate triggers the same part of a woman’s brain that sex does! Pleasure in a box 😉
I always felt sleepy after alcohol. Where was the high everyone spoke of? Or was it an old wive’s tale? I never felt like speaking Jamaican after getting high neither did I suddenly receive my calling as a comedian like Klint d Drunk! I only had one thing constantly get high, my libido!!! Let’s not go there but someone ought to do the research; The relationship between the sudden horniness of dark skinned lagos girls and ethanol by Dr Moet et al!
Anyway I decided alcohol was only good for heartbreaks and I was a regular in-door alcoholic, cry-drink-sleep-cry-drink-sleep. I only needed less than a quarter glass of irish cream to get me high so one bottle usually sufficed for the mourning period!
I have had my share of hangovers, embarassingly after minute amounts of alcohol! I’ve been laughed at for my disgracefully low alcohol tolerance level and I’ve been teased after getting high on a bottle of smirnoff ice! But I stand unmoved although I dey humble! And to all those whose hands I’ve fallen as a result of my shameless coke-drinking, it is an addiction I’m tryna fight!
I still wonder why my friend ‘L-roy’ chants, ‘sexy anita, mamcita, sweeter than a magarita’ anytime he wan hail me when he know say I no sabi the difference between a magarita and a sex-on-the-beach!
Anyway before you lecture me, I’m googling it as we speak.
This is the story of a girl whose abinibi was frustrated by lack of ability!
Alcohol flows through my veins, my people love strong drink and there’s nothing as lovely as the smell of beer, so don’t be alarmed if I smell your beer without drinking it or sip at the head without going all the way cos I’m some form of hybrid like a vampire vegetarian. I don’t mean to give your beer a premature ejaculation, I’m just an alcoholic who had too little alcohol!!!
Oh well…at least I’ll never drive my car into a stationary truck! Though for the records, the allegation was false and reliable sources claim there were no traces of alcohol in his system!
Please don’t drink and drive, many lives have been lost cos the peeps thought the combination of a good high and some loud badass music was the sheeettt!
Stay safe peeps, one luv xoxo
R.I.P Da Grin
Olenu bi pon pon pon pon pon pon!
We miss you like mad…


Posted by on October 28, 2010 in Memoirs


Tags: , , , ,

2 responses to “The alcoholic who drank too little!

  1. Purple Knight

    October 28, 2010 at 4:33 pm

    LOL . . . I think your father should be arrested and taken into custody. . . for not giving you enough alcohol to raise your tolerance level.;)
    Now, my Dad always let me have a little ‘small stout’ mixed with coca-cola or raw for as far back as I can remember and although I never tasted the stuff in social settings till I was an undergrad, when I did, my tolerance level was surprisingly high and I became the nerd who could cancel green/black bottles as much as anybody else.
    From Star, Small Stout, Big Stout, Extra smooth to Smirnoff, not ice but Smirnoff blue;), (40% alcohol), French whiskey(42-45%).
    I stopped when I encountered Cane Spirit with a whopping 47% alcohol content and incredibly cheap too(a big bottle goes for about N800 or less).
    But, like everything else in life, its a phase that you pass through and move on. So, Neetah, can I buy you a drink? 😉

  2. luyi

    October 28, 2010 at 5:52 pm

    First time I tasted beer, I thot twas water. Dat bitter taste became gray matter n I can’t stand it till now. However almost evry other form is sweet n inspiring. Its a part of evry culture, alchohol isn’t bad its gettin drunk n misbehavin or losin inhibitions dats naughty. So for d author, d smallst drop is baaaaaaaad.


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