Reckless with Reclusive Comparisons

Hey! It's Margarita Monday! What once was a party of more than thirty chipper drinkers has dwindled to a mere handful. I swear, many of my friends show no sense of commitment. I suppose that's not entirely accurate -- their excuses for not coming generally demonstrate commitment to class, jobs, homework, physical activity, and extracurriculars. Alas, they show no commitment to a weekly drinking engagement, so they clearly don't have their priorities in order. Frankly, I think it's rude. Not to me as much as it is to the restaurant. They love us there. Tonight, Michael Michael and I arrive later than we usually do and our bartender is concerned. "Where have you been? Where is everybody?" You wouldn't believe the heartache it causes me to have to say, "No one else is coming." That's a lot of pressure to put on someone. At any rate, the bartender is so appreciative to have me there that he generously intoxicates me. First, he fills nearly half the glass with straight tequila, then tops it off with the premixed margarita liquid. It's important to note that the mix itself constitutes the stiffest drink around, so adding a few shots of tequila seems quite lethal. Needless to say, just one drink suffices tonight. I am visibly giddy halfway through.

On the way to Margarita Monday, I relay to Michael Michael that a mutual friend "is a recluse." When that doesn't make sense, I clarify that, well, you know, if his girlfriend is his house, then he is a recluse. "Admittedly," I claim. "It's a poor metaphor." Later, Michael Michael repeats my dumb choice of words to Andrew. "He said that [friend] is to recluse as [girlfriend] is to house." Again, I quickly acknowledge it as a "poor analogy," but feel validated when Andrew grasps what I'm saying and confirms that he understands. While driving home (well, riding actually, Michael Michael has to play chauffeur after my intense drink), I have to endure Michael Michael teasing me again (he lives for it, I swear.) "Right," I said. "We've established that saying somone is 'like a recluse' is a bad simile." He's not done nitpicking, however. "Wait. First you called it a metaphor, then an analogy, and now a simile. How does that happen?"

I'm so passionate (and tipsy), I speed through my words. "Well first I said he 'is' a recluse, with 'is' being a key word in a metaphor, then at the bar you said 'is to... as' which indicates an analogy, and right now, I said 'like,' which clues us into a simile." He tries to apologize for doubting my comparison ability, but still in rambling mode, I cut him off. "I may be drunk, but I am still an English teacher!" I'm like a recluse, if my house is knowledge of figurative language.