oh? you need a description of how it tastes...

between naps and 10 trips to the bathroom at work today, i was engaged in an online conversation with a buddy regarding how a certain alcoholic beverage tasted. he claimed it tasted like "rays of sunshine", i claimed it tasted like "unicorn orgasms". it got me thinking of how i would describe a few of the choicer scotch's on the market. welcome to what my pallate speaks:

Highland Park 18* tastes like:

- the day the SPICE channel forgot to scramble the station for 45 minutes
- the Angels winning the world series
- jimmy fallon getting hit by a bus

Macallan Cask Strength* tastes like:

- your first handjob
- seeing Blue Oyster Cult perform "don't fear the reaper" live
- a 92 pound asian girl with fake breasts

Bushmills 20 single malt* tastes like:

- wanting to break up with your girlfriend, only to find that she's cheating on you so you get to dump her AND make her feel guilty
- hearing the 2 greatest words in the english vocabulary, "Open Bar"
- nick nolte's roll in "the thin red line"

Knockando 15* tastes like:

- moving into a new apartment to realize the previous resident forgot to put in a change of address on his Playboy subscription
- clean blood work
- finding out "everybody loves raymond" got cancelled

Ardbeg 12* tastes like:

- the fall of communist china
- finding out its NOT your baby
- stumbling home drunk to your grandmas house and her making you a fried chicken dinner at 2am
- whatever erin andrews tastes like

Macallan 20* tastes like:

- the blinding light of god
- being in the middle of making a sandwich and realizing you've run out of jalepeno mustard. promptly throwing the knife, kicking the cat and wondering how you could of let such an atrocity happen. then realizing you bought an extra one at the market just the other day because only fucking tards run out of jalepeno mustard. retrieving knife, petting cat, completeing construction of said sandwich and devouring the sunnavabitch while watching "casino royale"
- bong rips during fellatio

St. Germaine* tastes like:

- when your neighbors house floats away in a flood but yours is ok and secretly you're glad it was that asshole and not you cuz seriously, how the fuck do you start over again when your house floats away down the river? (this description was offered by QLC's good friend William [wshowell.com])

Ten High* tastes like:

- finding out it IS your baby
- your supervisor taking a shit on your desk
- finding out someone ate the last of the smoked almonds
- smashing your junk in a sliding glass door
- whatever Oprah tastes like
- owl cock
- Dodgers baseball

Ultimate Xmas...

how did i become the guy who had to come into work on xmas eve? i could be working a crisp buzz right now but instead I'm finding creative ways to lace my shoes at work. so the following is what i expect my xmas day to look like:

- wake up around 11 am with ZERO hangover

- look down and realize my penis has grown 3 inches (i believe in xmas miracles)

- rip bong that is conveniently placed next to bed

- ride segway from bedroom to kitchen

- mother hands me comically oversized mug of irish coffee and and a plate of "reubens benedict" (this a new creation of mine, how do you make a reuben sandwich better? slather it in hollandaise and a poached egg. that's how)

- check text messages while consuming 3rd reuben benedict helping
TEXT FROM:
-george clooney: "drinks 2night?"
my reply: "maybe"

-george lucas: "can i brrow sum moneyz?"
my reply: "no :( "

-clint eastwood: "u r badazz"
my reply: "k"

-brianna banks: "can i S ur D?"
my reply: "word"

-ride segway to living room, open presents, gifts include :
- unrated dvd collectors edition of 'showgirls'
- bottle of highland park 18

-feeling overly satisfied with gifts, ride segway to bathroom, drop a 2 1/4 lb. deuce while freebasing a dish of smoked almonds

-rip bong

-listen to bing crosby's rendition of "christmas in kilarney", have mother pour me a pint glass of scotch and sing the chorus with me duet style

-collect call jon voight at home and inform him that he is a cock-gypsy

-have mother make me a prime rib sandwich

-check email
email #1: job offer from espn college gameday asking me to be the lead color analyst (need to think about it)

- rip bong (undecided on job offer)

email #2: every single one of my ex-girlfriends contact me to let me know that i was a sexual tyranosaur and no men can compare and that they all are considering becoming lesbians unless i contact them.
consider which ones i should call back.

-rip bong (forget what i was thinking about. something involving college football and lesbian dinosaurs. what do i know? I'm fucking baked! do i smell homemade enchiladas?!!??)

-ride segway to kitchen. i did smell enchiladas.

-eat entire casserole dish of enchiladas

-call up jo rowling to wish her a happy xmas:
me- happy xmas jo!
jo- happy xmas tex! you are my inspiration for everything, this months royalty check is in the mail.
me- word, hugs and kisses, gots to get drunk

-read on espn mobile that the Angels signed Tim Tebow to play third base

-take 1 hour nap next to fireplace with my dachsunds and a bottle of purple drank

-get awoken by burt reynolds and jd salinger dropping off their xmas gifts of pepperidge farm baskets (they both got me the deluxe summer sausage and mustard set ones, gotta love those guys)

-intravenously consume a bottle macallan cask strength scotch

-have an imaginary conversation with frank sinatra and compile a list a cock-gypsys that him and i intend to pistol whip

-dress up like santa and drunkenly ride around the neighborhood on my segway handing out limited edition wwf action figures in original packaging to all the small children.

-get home, watch die hard and have fourth helping of reubens benedict

-rip bong

have a merry xmas friends, i hope yours is as good as mine is going to be.