It’s currently en vogue to refer to prostitution as “the world’s oldest profession.” Which is cute, I guess. But a quick analysis of my own common sense tells me that I’m pretty sure guys weren’t paying for it At The Beginning. These were cultures where women were thrown in volcanoes to appease the angry fertility gods (it’s true – I saw it on “Gilligan’s
If you ask me, the world’s oldest profession is drinking. In fact, I could probably make the argument that prostitution wouldn’t have even been invented if drinking hadn’t happened first. Paying money to stick your wahoo in a girl’s hooha just seems like a idea hatched over a few too many gin and tonics. And this is precisely why if drinking wasn’t the first profession (baby delivery, maybe?), it has at least proven to be the most influential. You think I was sober the day I decided to start a blog? Heck no! It was like any other Thursday, and work was slow so I had a few with lunch (maybe instead of lunch; things were tight back then). And I haven’t been sober since.
Spanning farther back, my personal history with alcohol is long and storied. The first time I got drunk was at one of my sister’s parties in high school. We raided my parents’ liquor cabinet (sorry, mom!) and since I was the last to claim a bottle, I was left with Canadian Club whisky (wtf, mom?). After a few disgusting sips, I learned what all the fuss was about: No longer was I a lost, confused adolescent. Now I was a lost, confused adolescent with a purpose, which, at that time, was to find something to mix with Canadian Club whisky. And the more I drank, the more I realized that when you’re drunk you can do all the things you normally do – watch TV, sing Billy Joel, cry because you’re not sure why your body is changing or what all these new feelings mean – except have more fun while doing it. It was revolutionary, and I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to it.
Flash forward to my time living alone in
Sure, there are your expensive cocktail joints. You’ll easily pay $12 per drink at most hotel bars. But sit down at any old bar during happy hour (like I did the other day while “working”) and when you order a beer, they’re likely to bring you two for one. That’s two beers, at the same time, for $3.50 ($4 if you’re unpatriotic and drink international). You can even ask for your drink in a plastic cup so you can take it to go. (Try doing that with a hooker.)
What’s more, when you need some vodka, you don’t have to Google map the nearest liquor store. You know why? Because, in an idea so profoundly good and pure, THEY SELL IT A WALGREENS. When you think about it, it just makes sense. Buying condoms? Don’t forget the tequila! Too much tequila and now you need a pregnancy test? Buy some scotch! Couldn’t convince her to have it taken care of, so now you need diapers, baby powder, and wipes – which is OK because they’re kind of nice to use on yourself? IT’S BOURBON TIME.
What I’m trying to say is, in some ways
(I’ll give you a few moments to clean up your blown mind.)
That’s right: You park in the gas station, go into the convenience store, walk to the back, and like the gates to some trailer park heaven, the store opens up to a wine bar with something like 25,000 (approximation) bottles of wine to choose from. You pick your bottle from the shelf and they tag on a $10 corking fee. I was incredulous at first. After all, I can think of like seven great things to do in the back of a gas station, but sipping a 2004 Barbara d’Alba certainly isn’t one of them. But when we clinked glasses and took our first sips while overlooking the nearby Ho-Ho’s display, the reality sunk in:
Further proof that Citgo is the best place in the world.