I don't blink an eye when spending $10-$15 on two fingers of good whiskey. I appreciate the quality and I recognize that I am imbibing something to be savored, and I truly enjoy it, making the cost a factor I am willing to bear. Contrast this with the fact that this morning, for the second time in recent history, I ate eggs that were "less than fresh" before working out and paid the price in bile. Granted, I usually don't do vigorous exercise in New Orleans summer heat after drinking any grade of whiskey, but I think I have learned a lesson. Thusly, next time I go to the grocery sto', rather than eyeing the single-malts and 30-years and fermented-with-the-sweat-of-a-virgin's-brow top-shelf crap, I'm gonna buy a new carton of fucking eggs.

In other words, whiskey ages better than eggs. Or maybe I should just do shots before long bike rides.

On repeat: Ghastly City Sleep
link to this post   7:41 AM by Trey | (1)

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Ooohh, poor baby puked. Reading your site makes me puke.

Maybe if you ate more than Cheez-Its, instant pizza, and Gatorade you could make it through a workout without blowing chunks. But you probably won't, and your malnourished body will continue to trudge around like the hollow, lifeless shell of a human that you are.
# posted by scarlett : 8/28/2007 4:58 PM