UTTERMEDIA

Vodka. Not at all my favourite drink. Vodka to me is like the relative you never call. You have fond memories, some creepy memories, but it’s best for both of you that you just ignore each other’s phone calls.

As a physical liquid body, there’s not much to it. It tastes okay. You can’t savour it. You can’t tell many vodkas apart from one another unless you have some sort of outerworld lizard tongue. As an inebriating liquor, it certainly does the job.

Vodka has a special ingredient. No one ever mentions it. Everyone is aware of those facts that come rolling out when you’re tipsy… it’s made from potatoes, it is odourless, it is made with coal.

BUT… that face you pull. That face when you’ve had a fair amount of non-vodka spirits and ales to drink, but you are happy drunk, and you are with good people, in a good place, and you visit the toilet. The toilet welcomes you and you welcome the toilet. There is no sick. Just piss. You piss, and whilst you piss, you crane your neck over to the mirror. The mirror looks back at you, and you’re fucking smiling. Smiling like a dick. Like a dick who is drunk but totally okay with it and nothing is a problem. Nothing is a problem because you’re happy, and you look okay for someone who is so drunk that you’re pissing all over the carpet. The carpet that should never have been laid in the toilet in the first place. The first place you look when you see that mirror is straight into your own eyes. Your own eyes look back at you and you either say “Heeeeyyyyyy” or your brain says it for you.

You know that feeling. You’re wobbling on your feet but you’re fantastically in love with everyone and everything and you just want to drink more and more.

Vodka, however. On a fairly empty stomach, can make you feel like that, after say 2 or 3 glasses, with or without a brown, caffeine, caramel and sugar based mixer.

Vodka picks you up, dusts you off, and may even have the common courtesy to offer a reacharound. Vodka is that reassuring rub on the upper back, and then a cute little smack on the arse as you walk back to the fridge for more brown, caffeine, caramel and sugar based mixer.

I’m writing this quick, because I don’t have much vodka left. And I know once it’s gone, even though it’s a “no hangover drink”, I will read this in the morning and never want to drink it again.

But just remember, vodka drinker or not, it is always one phone call away from you, and when you pick up that call, it’s a fucking hoot.

Photo by me. 2005. I think.