Beefeaters: Cute label.
Tanqueray: "You say, 'What did you do with him today?' And sniffed me out like I was Tanqueray. You know I'm no good."
Bombay: Pretty decent.
Bombay Saphire: Pretty and Decent.
Boodles: I'd walk into any gin joint for some of that.
Hendricks: Smells like roses. Warning: sense memory may kick in if you once had a rose garden.
2 comments:
This makes me almost want to drink gin -- when I get back from the "vacation?"
What I know about gin: I drank a lot of it after the typing teacher "ruined" all my big plans for the junior-senior prom AT the junior-senior prom. I drank a lot of it to show her that even with her meddling, kids could still drink before they arrived at the post-prom. I drank a lot of it in a new game I called, appropriately, Stop The Car, in which I would yell, "Stop the car!" to my prom date and he would, not surprisingly, stop the car and then we'd each have to chug down a cup of my gin-lemonade-but-mostly-gin concoction before he could resume driving to the post-prom. I drank so much of it so quickly that when I arrived at the post-prom I still appeared sober and so even though I was half an hour past the cut-off for allowing kids into the post-prom, the chaperones (minus Ms Busy Body Typing Teacher, who didn't come to the post-prom) allowed my date and me to enter, assuming I'd probably been helping clean up after the prom. I drank so much of it I quickly lost all control, spewing forth in quantities that would make The Exorcist seem like child's play. I drank so much of it that I didn't even remember drinking that much of it when I awoke in the backseat of my mother's car the following morning, wondering why someone had placed a bucket in my lap. But mostly, what I know about gin is this: I haven't had any since that night at the prom in 1979. And I'm pretty sure that I won't have any for my remaining days on earth.
But hey, Denise, drink up.
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