I've been to quite a few in my days and sometimes I reflect if I've wasted some years (and some health) in the persuit of pleasures. Many times were such fun, others had given birth to a brood of problems - some yet to be revealed, others are front and center.
On the other hand, I do feel I've pickled myself perfectly. Throwing the weights of plates around, pounding the pavement each and every day by fleet of foot & while festooned with winter regalia.
As it stands today and hence forth, I'll just follow my Blue Ribbon Manifesto of Happiness and Satisfaction and Peace of Mind and with that comes the occasional tumble and rumble with the bottles.
Bourbons and Rye caught my eye as do all the Scotchs that heed my name, with out the second 'N' but Johnny, Elijah, Glen and I aren't hanging out this day, for I see another old time buddy NARRAGANSETT. (I've got some high-end Bourbon junkie friends and they're all kinda weird & snooty patootie - yet still pay less tax than I, I who used an excellent Jewish accountant - it's Humbug I tell you).
Healeys lead the league in my recollection of Gassett options, so I pulled and pried the big boy boxes out from their cold reach in cellars and thrust them upon the unsuspecting counter vigorously yet still unaware of how my antics have the locals with one hand on the 911 speed dial. I guess they see drinkers so puffed up with juice and fake hard courage that get angry with the wind blowing in their faces and wanting to beat the ground for touching their feet, they are unaccustomed to happy go lucky me
It was a wonderful store with the kindest faced woman at the register, so I slung the sack of brewskis upon my back and off we went -- With Iris!! I just adopted another Rhodesian Ridgeback and still have plenty of room in my modest Forest Hills home. read more