whiskey – skepticlysm

Dear lord, I want an Old Fashioned.
One of the things I can never write about at work is alcohol.
I’m not an alcoholic, mind you, but I like a good drink or beer from time to time.
Old Fashioneds serve as my drink of choice.
That or Rye whiskey, neat.
More than a decade ago, I went with the Wife to a conference in San Diego.
While she was conferencing, I got to hang out with LBSUTKE and Gaius, two of my Halo buddies who live in the area.
They took me to the Aero Bar, which has more than 700 whiskeys and bourbons.
The bartenders hand you a three-inch binder when you come in, and there’s a wall of bottles behind them.
Gaius picked for me because I was not a whiskey guy.
One of them was Japanese, and I don’t remember which it was.
The other was the Thomas H. Handy rye from the Buffalo Trace antique series.
It melted my brain it was so good.
And he’d only let me drink it neat.
Everything else pales in comparison.
The closest I can get is the Midwinter Night’s Dram from High West.
Which is damn good, mind you.
I think Tulsa only gets like 13 bottles of the Handy every year, so those fuckers are snatched up by Liquor Store employees.
(If you know anyone in Tulsa or anywhere who can help me get a bottle for under $200, lemme know.)
But yeah … Whiskey.
I love the complicated taste of it.
How each is different.
And the burn does not bother me.
None for me for … 11 more weeks.
Sigh.
Margaritas are in there, too.
And a selection of beers.
But no gd IPAs.
Those are the fucking worst.
I found this Hawaiian shirt with skulls all over it.
I’m inclined to buy it.
I used to wear Hawaiian shirts all the time.
Mostly because I hate tucking things in.
I know, I know, if I want to move up the corporate food chain, I have to tuck shit in.
The struggle is real.
Anyway, I showed it to the Teenager.
She said, “I hate Hawaiian shirts.”
So does the Wife, apparently.
I’m like, you guys have no idea about male attire.
We get either t-shirts or things with collars.
Polos.
Button-downs.
Things that will accommodate ties, which are a level of hell-on-earth.
That’s kinda it.
And as we reviewed yesterday, I don’t do well with … rules.
Then she (the Teenager) told me she never really likes my wardrobe choices.
What. The. Hell.
I did not get far enough to see what she’d prefer to see me in.
Probably dressed like a British gentleman.
I want the Hawaiian shirt for two reasons:
1) Because they’re hella comfy, especially in the summer;
2) I want it to wear under my jacket at work.
I’m a Creative Director now for F’s sake.
That’s why I wear Van’s.
Cause I can.
Cause it’s expected.
I did get a TSR shirt this week, which is noice.
IYKYK.
I still have a jonesing for a pair of Doc Martens.
Why am I talking about stuff?
I got nothing else to do?
I’ve been reading book four of The Wheel of Time.
They have fucked up that show.
Anyway.
I know Barry provided me with Italics instructions, but … I can’t be bothered.
It also won’t let me hyperlink copy.
I can add the web address outright and it’ll give you all something to click on.
Again, go to the blog (skepticlysm.com), sign up for the newsletter.
You’ll get these in your inbox and never have to come here.
I have some fiction up over there, too, if you haven’t already read it.
I have plans.
I have had epiphany after epiphany since the surgery.
Shit is in motion.
Stay tuned.
The other day, when talking music, one of my Halo buddies sent me a song from a band I’d never heard before.
“Shakin’ Off the Rust,” by The Blue Stones.
(https://open.spotify.com/track/5MKtQtz40BsJZvqkS5FmC6?si=e5899226f9c143a8)
It is freaking spectacular and literally every song I listened to from them was good.
Insane to have never heard of them.
They may not have a pocket full of sunshine, but they’re damn good.
Okay, here’s the truth about these lists.
They are procrastination.
I should be working on the novel.
I’m not.
Yet.
My brain’s not 100 percent back yet.
Just you wait.
Or something.
I got a …

Tag: whiskey

Whiskey in the Jar O