Field Trip

So I somehow found myself in the liquor store tonight…not sure how that happened. I must’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. But since I was there anyway, I figured I might as well look around for something yummy to take home. A migraine, a long day, and the frustration borne of people and events I can’t control seemed to indicate something along the lines of 70 proof were desperately needed in my bedtime coffee refreshment.

While on my field trip to the one liquor store (we have three) in my town that stays open past 8:00 p.m., I studied the choices and had narrowed the decision down to Bailey’s (never a bad idea if you ask me) and Pinnacle Vodka — whipped cream flavor. Because really. Who doesn’t love whipped cream?

As I looked around the store at the other offerings, I was amazed at some of the “newer” libations that are being produced, either aimed at young people with no money and a yen to party or to people who just couldn’t care less what the hell they’re drinking.  There was a huge, almost keg-size, plastic, plastic mind you, bottle of Blue Raspberry Vodka for $7.99. Now when faced with such a monstrosity, you could go one of two ways — you could say wow, that’s really cost efficient and I must have it for jello shots and bad decision-making, or you say to yourself damn that’s some cheap ass liquor and rather than Blue Raspberry it likely tastes like rubbing alcohol and move on to the “good stuff,” shaking your head…all depending on your social standing in the world.

But I was quite impressed because not only did the company who brewed this concoction do so on a budget, they also had the forethought to put the stuff in a plastic bottle. An absolute necessity for those about to imbibe on a barrel of vodka. No shattered glass with its accompanying mess and hospital visit for cut feet or hands…and certainly no bashing over the heads of the other party-goers. At least not with conviction anyway. Safety first people. Safety first.

There were also mason jar shaped bottles of so-called moonshine. Which just made me laugh because my grandparents and great-grandparents used to run the real deal, so seeing a trumped-up version complete with a “plain brown wrapper” label selling in the store for $8.99 a bottle was amusing. If it’s brewed by licensed, tax-paying distillers it’s more accurate to call it white whisky, which many distillers do. However, others like the PR, if not the history, behind calling their weak knock-offs moonshine. But I’m sorry, if it doesn’t taste like turpentine, it’s just not the “good stuff.” George Jones had it right, you know. White Lightning indeed.

 

I do enjoy looking at the various labels though. Some are just beautiful and I would love to buy them just to have the bottles. Others not so much. But they’re all interesting to take in.  In fact, I found a few that I just had to share.

Anyone who says that grain alcohol has no taste is either wrong or already drunk. It tastes of rubbing alcohol and when taken straight, burns worse than any whiskey I’ve encountered (don’t ask me how I know this). The only reason to buy grain alcohol is to get drunk or to spike the punch at prom. Plain and simple. It has no merit on its own – unless of course you’re looking to make Molotov cocktails. For that I imagine it’s perfect.

Anyone who says that grain alcohol has no taste is either wrong or already drunk. It usually tastes of rubbing alcohol and when taken straight, burns worse than any whiskey I’ve ever encountered (don’t ask me how I know this). The only reason to buy grain alcohol is to get drunk or to spike the punch at prom. Plain and simple. It has no merit on its own – unless of course you’re looking to make Molotov cocktails. For that I imagine it’s perfect. Gotta love the warning labels though.

 

I thought this label was beautiful. Regardless of the contents, I’d love to buy it just for the bottle.

I thought this label was beautiful. Regardless of the contents, I’d love to buy it just for the bottle.

 

Okay, of course I had to share this one, right? I mean, bacon just seems to be taking over the world. Why not our alcoholic beverages? I know a lot, and I mean A LOT, of people who would buy this and enjoy it. Or at least say they do anyway.

Okay, of course I had to share this one, right? I mean, bacon just seems to be taking over the world. Why not our alcoholic beverages? I know a lot, and I mean A LOT, of people who would buy this and enjoy it. Or at least say they do anyway. It’s the principle of the thing.

 

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Pinnacle Whip Cream Vodka was the refreshment of choice this evening. Vodka from France. Go figure.

 

 

Memorial Day Honors

I hope all of my U.S. friends enjoy their Memorial Day celebrations.  Please remember to honor the dedicated men and women of our military who never made it home. Although a simple thank you will never be enough, my family and I are grateful, from the bottom of our hearts, for the service of those lost. I implore you all to keep the military animals in your thoughts as well. So many brave dogs, horses, and other animals have given their service to this country, including laying down their lives alongside their human servicemen and women. Please remember them all this Memorial Day, human and animal alike.

 

memorial day dog

 

Evil Thwarted

So. Just came into the room to see the ne’er-do-well trying to murder my dog. She had her tiny little vampire jaws clenched tight around poor Petra’s neck as the hapless dog lay there wishing she was anywhere else but not exactly sure how to go about making that wish a reality.

To back up a bit, when I last left them, they were both napping, sweet and sound, on the bed. I have no idea what could have possibly occurred to provoke such a scenario, but I have no doubt, no doubt, mind you, that the ne’er-do-well just woke up in the mood to throttle someone and chose the nearest victim who wouldn’t fight back. That’s Petra in a nutshell. She will just lay there, as proven by this evening’s encounter, and simply take the abuse heaped upon her by even the smallest of bloodthirsty, homicidal fur-covered packets of cute. It was actually quite surreal. There was no struggle from Petra, no shaking or violent actions on the part of the would-be murderess. Instead Petra turned to me with this look of “Do you see?  Do you see now the shit I have to put up with around here!?” while the ne’er-do-well Holly was highly offended at being interrupted.

I didn’t get a picture or I would share with you all the crime scene as it happened. Instead, I chose to step in and relieve Petra of the very determined set of teeth clamped round her petite throat.  No worries by the way…Petra is perfectly fine and the ne’er-do-well was promptly and appropriately chastised for such cold-blooded, unnecessary behavior towards another beloved family member.

But now I’m asking myself, should I be concerned? Is it just by luck or circumstance that I wasn’t the nearest possible victim for the evil that resides in my own home?  Was this a practice run or was the innocent, shy Petra the intended target all along? Holly certainly showed no remorse so she’s apparently becoming more brazen. No longer is she confining herself to simply taking my spot, giving sullen looks, pushing the dog off the bed, or touching my things. Oh no. She has stepped up in the world.

I think maybe I’ll go make a pot of coffee. It might be best not to sleep for a while. And tuna. I definitely should get a can of tuna at the store tomorrow morning, first thing. Bumblebee. It’s her favorite. Maybe two cans.

the ne'er-do-well in the arms of her savior

the ne’er-do-well in the arms of her savior

 

That’s Entertainment

The following gives you an inside view on Sarah and I deciding whether to watch a movie or not.  Cause I know you guys are eaten up with curiosity over just how we manage to come to such an important decision.

Sarah: That movie looks sooo weird!  Even for us.

Me (*gleefully*): I know, right!?

Together: Let’s watch it!

Night Life

A ghost town? Zombie apocalypse? Martial law curfew due to an adopted demigod’s adorable grin and glorious purpose? (sorry, just got done watching Avengers for the 12th time)

No. This is just small town nightlife at its best – at 10:00 p.m.  But it wouldn’t be any different at 9:30 p.m. Or even 9:15 p.m.  Everything closes up shop at 9:00 p.m. or earlier and then boy howdy, you could roll up the streets it’s so damn empty.  We have a 7-11 in town (pics below) but no one is ever there, at least not when we are. It’s amazing, frankly, just how dead this town is after dusk. You’d seriously think we’re in some kind of horror story just living out the writer’s sick fantasy.

If there IS someone walking down the road, it’s creepy as hell and you look really close (okay I look really close, not sure about everyone else) to see if they have on a mask and are carrying a bloody axe (although you’d think the requisite accompanying spine-chilling musical score would sort of give them away).  I’m also quick to check to see if they present with any of the obvious symptoms that indicate they’ve somehow or other been touched by the zombie infection. You can never be too careful. I like my brains where they are thank you very much.

Sadly, just my luck, the impulsive adopted demigod with the impish grin would never visit such an out-of-the-way, shutter the stores and roll up the streets at dusk sort of seaside town.  More’s the pity.

7-11 in town, the car you see is mine

the parking lot of the 7-11 in town, the car you see is mine, and although lit up, the place across the street is closed

 

the other side of the parking lot at 7-11...not unusual

other side of the parking lot…no zombies thankfully, but they do have chips

 

the one intersection/light in town and not a soul in sight

the one intersection/light in town and not a soul in sight…lights are on, but no one’s home — or out and about