Ah, the Eggnog

Christmas this year was pretty cool. I got a lot of the things I asked for, and my family got along peaceably, for the most part. My grandmother still interrupted everyone when they were halfway through a sentence, but that's pretty normal and we're all used to it. But the one thing that did not go well was something I've been looking forward to all year -- Uncle Bob's eggnog. We had passed the point of dessert and were playing "20 Questions" around the kitchen table. It was as if a ray of light shown from the sky when Uncle Bob brought out the mixer and began to make his secret, alcohol-infused, nectar of the gods. My mouth watered, and I nearly tripped on my way, cup outstretched, to hover over his shoulder till he was done. He gave me a good-sized scoop of the frothy liquid, and I greedily took my cup back to my seat at the table and took my first sip. It was creamy and delicious -- then I swallowed. A wave of nausea washed over me as I had a flashback to this year's Halloween. The aftertaste of the eggnog reminded me of the vodka I had consumed in copious amounts and spent the next day and a half recovering from. Even now, two months later, the taste of liquor makes me [almost] violently sick. I nearly cried as I pushed the best part of Christmas away from me and towards my cousin (who had already drained one cup). Then I retreated to the living room for the rest of the night to sulk and watch one of the most boring pastimes known to English majors--an MBA basketball game. At least I won the game of 20 Questions. I was Genghis Khan.