Everything is better with a straw.
As a kid, straws indicated a special moment. There would be straws when my family went out to eat. Sometimes I’d even manage to score two: one for my water and one for my coke. When I was sick my grandmother would bring me ginger ale with a straw. And one of my favorite desserts–a black and white milkshake—also came with a straw (although it’d usually be a double-team job with the help of a spoon.)
As I got older, straws made less appearances. But at some point in my post-college life, it changed. I started drinking beer with a straw. It also doesn’t matter the type of brew; I drink both Miller Lites and Beamish from a straw.
For some reason this offends the shit out of people. Strangers will not only glare at me, or tilt their head in confusion, but will question my morals.
And if fellow bar patrons don’t think I’m flunking the beer rules test, then they assume I use the straw to get drunk faster. Really, though, it’s because I’m an LPS (my dad’s abbrievation: lazy piece of shit) and couldn’t be bothered lifting the glass to my mouth. I’d rather bend my neck slightly to reach the tip of the straw. It’s so much easier with a straw. And to be honest, it’s also quite delicious.
This straw madness may have gone too far recently. I was out on a date and I started drinking a martini with that tiny black stirrer. Fine, it looked ridiculous. But do you know how dangerous it is to handle a cone shaped vehicle filled with expensive liquid when it’s already my 5th drink of the night?
Anyway. I’m perfectly proud of my straw usage. I wouldn’t mind some backing though. Any secret straw-ers out there?