"Alcoholics In Training"
Maybe the term 'alcoholic' is a little strong, but it's fair to say that my sister and I come from a long line of enthusiastic drinkers. One of my earliest memories is of a family Christmas party during which my Uncle John handed everyone their presents from under the tree upon arrival, then got drunk and proceeded to accuse us all of "stealing his shit". I'm sorry, did I say earliest memory? I think what I meant to say was fondest.
Despite this however, I've only witnessed the phenomenon that is Drunk Catherine Trew around 3 times in my life. And 2 out of those 3 times, I myself was intoxicated enough for her to actually appear sober.
But while I've never really experienced it myself, I've certainly heard stories. Stories about Malaysian night clubs, about lost hotel room keys, about walking home from the beach at 3:30 in the morning...one of my favourites involves our front yard, Catherine, and a 24-pack of passionfruit flavoured UDL. Use your imaginations people, because I'm not allowed to retell that one here.
Our parents are engaged in a fairly benevolent relationship with The Wine Society, which neither Catherine or I have inherited. In fact, as far as alcohol is concerned, we couldn't be more different - she being a beer/mixer/rum-and-coke kind of girl, and me being pretty much unreceptive of anything that isn't served in a shotglass with salt on the rim. Nevertheless, this hasn't stopped her from attempting to further my education in the field of drinking. And I have to admit, she's given me some fairly sound advice...like, that blueberry-flavoured Pulse is not acceptable once you pass the age of 18. That red wine and diet coke are two substances which should NEVER be mixed. And that despite having the word 'gay' in it's name, Mount Gay rum is not going to result in a better night than any other label of rum on the market.
Except of course, for Bundaberg, which everyone knows tastes like shit.