at the very most

"I like to have a martini,

Two at the very most.

After three I’m under the table,

after four I’m under my host."

                                    Dorothy Parker

Went for drinks after work today to welcome the new guy into the fold. He hasn't even been with us for two solid weeks -- after the first, he was already on vacation -- but off we went to pickle ourselves.

I had two martinis. Two Bailey's mintinis. Why not experiment, right? It seemed an appropriate choice given it's winter and it reminded me of having hot chocolate (yes, with Bailey's) after a day of ice skating with Mr. Man. Maybe not the best option for pickling one's self, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

[insert lesson here]

When the first one arrived, it looked like frothy, warm milk with a hint of cocoa. It was served in a stemless martini glass. With my youthful looks and this would-be glass of milk in front of me, they might as well have given me my blankie and a giant straw to slurp it up.

[insert wooden ruler to rap knuckles after not learning first lesson here]

Well, the second one arrived with a maraschino cherry wedged to the rim and a stumpy, fat straw bobbing in it. I hate maraschino cherries -- not that they would have known -- but what's up with the inconsistent presentation and, more importantly, with the blasphemous addition of a straw to this drink?

They just stopped short of topping it with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. Maybe some cake and a pony ride when I'm done? Blah...