Saturday, February 19, 2011

Let's get tight.

It's the end of the week, and I have a nice little night of drinking ahead of me. Abbie, brace yourself for at least two texts positively brimming with nostalgia and nonsense! Maybe you'll even get a drunk postcard or two out of it. Hey, that goes out to all of you. Do I have your addresses? You better hope so.'s already begun.

I always use my Oregon old-fashioned for rum.

While gin and tonics always go in the derrick glass. Is this tall enough to be
considered a highball? Perhaps. But I can't give you a definitive answer at the moment.  

I hope everyone out there is way ahead of me. My hair already feels like I Dream of Jeannie. You don't know what that means? I don't either, but it feels right right now. Cheers!


  1. You do what feels right! I just hope there was a young Larry Hagman involved.

    You introduced me to Sailor Jerry rum, and I love you for it!

  2. OK, that was me -- Abbie. You've probably figured that out. But I didn't see a place to input my name, and I don't want to choose URL or anything like that in case the Mafia is tracking me. I am paranoid and should probably become a survivalist.

  3. Abbie has arrived on the commenting scene! Yipee! For future comments--because I'm nothing if not optimistic about the future of your commenting--if you choose the "Name/URL" option, it'll let you type your name in. All the same, you should probably just assume someone is tracking you and employ some evasive tactics. Hey, let's build a bunker together!


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