Too girly for my own good?

In a past life--before I was the Mama In Red, I was the college girl in adidas windpants--I used to be a bartender. Which is apparently a job you can never retire from. I highly enjoyed it. It was the perfect job for me at the time. But it made me way more picky about my drinks. I was never a martini gal, and if I was, it was dirty. Please don't bring any frou-frou concoction to me. Don't treat me like a little girl, I can lift a keg forchrisakes.

Fast forward to now. I'm still not a girly drinker. I don't consider Arbor Mist to actually be wine, my red wines aren't chilled, and please don't think I will ever order a cosmopolitan. I'm still set in my ways, I like a Bloody Mary that I can chew, I don't drink anything from the bottom shelf, and I still prefer Jack Daniels to most other liquors. However, I am a margarita girl. That is "my drink." I'm good at making it, and I can suck it down just the same. But then, tonight, I realized I had some PAMA Pomegranite liquor left over. And a bottle of vodka from the Husband's birthday party. So I decided to find from the rubble break out my martini glasses, which until now have only held strained margaritas. And how was it? Delicious. Next up on my list is a chocolate martini. But it may have to wait, I mean I am trying to be healthy and all. Just keep it our secret, kay?