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When I graduated high school, my grandfather gave me a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream, an apparently pedigreed sherry, which at the time I thought was very festive, in its distinctive blue bottle.

Then I tried a glass. And nearly... well... "reacted". AWFUL stuff. I don't recall the taste exactly, but I seem to recall thinking at the time (and keep in mind, this is in high school, when shotgunning warm lager and shooting the cheapest vodka in the store was still acceptable practice) that I was enriched by the experience, because everything else would taste good by comparison for the rest of my life.

Sadly, the 17-year-old me couldn't even drink the HBC to get drunk. I secretly snuck it into my parents' liquor cabinet, the first and only time that the transaction ever went that way.

Of course, after one tumbler of it, my dad poured it down the sink and tossed the bottle in the recycle bin.

Still, it was a thoughtful gift.


May I suggest vanilla extract (35% alcohol by volume) or rubbing alcohol (68-72% of isopropyl alcohol by volume) as alternative beverages? At least you could say you didn't drink a "mainstream" alcoholic beverage. :-)


Boy, you guys are quite the boozehounds, apparently. Much more so than us, anyway. We still have all of the bottles we brought with us from our respective apartments in 1998 -- and some of those had been around for a few years by then.

In particular, I know we still have the bottle of gin that I was given by a lovely drunk young production assistant when I dj'd the wrap party for the movie "Roommates." She was plastered, and called me "Cookie." In return, I also called her "Cookie." Last time I saw Cookie was when I was loading my gear back into the car after the party, and she was passed out in her own vomit on the sidewalk. She wasn't quite as lovely by that point.

Oh -- "Roommates" came out in 1995, so I would assume that the wrap party was probably in '94. That's at least a 12-year-old bottle of gin sitting in our kitchen.


It must be the depths of laziness on my part that I won't simply stroll one and a half blocks away from my door to buy something fresh, like a lovely bottle of Sauvignon Blanc or a Pinot Gris or a Pinot Noir from the wine shop on my street, but instead say to myself, "Wait a tick, there's still some of that SHERRY in the cabinet, right? Let's say I make do with that!"
That's the kind of laziness factor that has drained all of our supplies of booze over the years.

If I had the chance, and if I were in your place, Bob, I'm certain Cookie's gin would've been gone around the time of Clinton's second inaugural address.


Joe, that's all the more reason for you guys to come for a visit. We'll kill Cookie's gin, toasting DB Sweeney all the while.

There's some other stuff in there that's just as old, but without any backstory. We can make up backstory for them, though, while we drink.


Reflecting on Aldo's demise, if he has any family, I see a lawsuit. SHouldn't there have been a guardrail thingy along that road to keep drunks from driving off the cliff?

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