Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Scotch

My parents left 300 bottles of it in the closet when they left in 1989 (don't ask, long story) but when the beer runs dry and there's nothing else, that's what I hit. Thanks, Xavier, now a head of a medical clinic in England, for teaching me to drink it straight, no ice, all those years ago in Dakar. Fine doctor you turned out to be.

Well, dude, I'd like you to know I at least added back the ice. And I'll be cursing you tomorrow morning.

2 comments:

  1. Oh c'mon Jim, what the hell do you you expect? J&B, Ballantine's, Black and White. You know, parents' stuff.

    No Glenfiddich here

    HTH

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