Embarrassing moments during the holidays December 20 2014

I’ve always considered myself a little more on the happening side, keeping up with trends and usually owning the latest in technology within the first few months of a launch or eagerly diving into the newest trend in skin care. I’ll admit I don’t always know how to use my snappy new smart device and I tend to get so excited about facial skin massage that I accidentally exfoliate the top 2 layers of my skin, but at least I am stepping out and in the know. The holidays always bring to mind sweet memories and as I browsed through the liquor aisle in my local market yesterday, I remembered a face palm moment that I had yet to record in my dairy.

 

Picture it – a cold, winter night in the city. A gentle flurry fills the air as the sun sets all too early. A dashing young woman emerges into her local market to pick up a bottle of top shelf booze to take as a gift for a work-related holiday party. Properly accessorized with a Pink Tulips turquoise blue top handled tote and matching lucite ring that I had spent way too much money on earlier that day (yes, I’m the leading lady in this particular story), I smoothed my cranberry colored skirt and shook some snow flakes from my suede and leather over-the-knee boots. Tipping over slightly, I steadied myself on a display of yummy looking chocolate and shook away the glass of wine I had before I left my house. I looked at the shelves lined with various bottles and pondered what would be an appropriate gift for the host. My boss, a 50-something single man, was a distinguished type. The bottle of Grey Goose spoke to me, so I wrapped my freshly manicured fingernails over the sleek, clear necked bottle.

 

I noticed a black plastic shot glass perched atop my Grey Goose and on every bottle of alcohol around me, in fact. “I don’t want that cheap shot glass,” I said to myself and cursed the marketing gods for coming up with a chintzy freebee that tarnished my gift. I set my purse on the shelf in front of me and tried to remove the shot glass with no luck. That sucker was stuck on tight!

 

I continued to talk to myself, “I’ll be damned if I walk into this high-rise party looking like a college skank with a shot glass!” Looking to the right and the left down the aisle, I tucked the bottle between my knees and grunting out loud, tried to pry the shot glass from the neck of the bottle. From the corner of my eye, as I wrestled with this plastic abomination and cursed the idea of doing shots in the first place, I noticed a figure standing next to me.

 

“Can I help you?” the gentleman said. His nametag said, Edward.

 

“Yes, Edward, thank you,” I replied. “I am trying to get this shot glass off this bottle of vodka.”

 

“That’s not a shot glass, miss. Can I see your ID?” Edward said, holding out his hand.

 

Through my glass of wine buzz I realized I was still slightly crouched over with the Grey Goose between my legs. Laughing a bit, I handed Edward the bottle and fished around in my tote for my license.

 

“If it’s not a shot glass, then what is it?” I asked smugly, handing Edward my ID.

 

“It’s called a liquor lock. You know, security, so the expensive stuff doesn’t get stolen?” Edward said as he figured out how old I was.

 

I laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed some more. Then I snorted and laughed again. Edward handed me my card and the bottle, shook his head, and walked away…