I’m a Little Whiskey Girl

I didn’t start drinking alcohol until the last week of my freshman year of college when I had like 3 cranberry vodkas at The College of New Jersey and watched a dog get drunk and it was one of the most hilarious nights of my entire existence (though I was sad for the dog). After that, me and my also-nondrinking-future-roommate, Lisa, established a stringent once-a-month rule for drinking because we’re lame and because we were both on athletic teams with 48 hour rules which was pretty limiting anyway.

But, at some point during that year (my sophomore year), amidst drinking our “favorite” – cheapest and lowest in calorie – concoction of Fruit2O (flavored water, my friends, we consistently made alcoholic beverages with FLAVORED WATER) and flavored vodka, I discovered what can only be called a passion for the elusive elixir that is whiskey. Mmm.

Yes, whiskey is typically for those seasoned, hard drinkers who have had tough lives and need a taste of something just as tough. And yes, whiskey is typically a man’s drink. But do I look like I care? The answer is no.

And the whiskey helped me come to that conclusion.

Because not only is whiskey delicious, it also helps you come to conclusions. It brings forth epiphanies. And for some people, it brings forth vomit. However, I’m not one of those people.
I just think whiskey is delicious.

I am not a fan of those fruity drinks that most girls enjoy. They taste like sugar. I like my drinks how I like my men – strong. (HA). Whiskey is, by far, my drink of choice. On the rocks, in a (diet) coke, or in black coffee, it cannot be resisted.

Perhaps my tastebuds are paying homage to my grandfathers. I once found a tiny bottle (MY FAVORITE) of whiskey in our cupboard that belonged to my dad’s dad, looooong loooooooooong after he was no longer living. My mom handed it over to me like a present from beyond the grave, straight to my liver. My mom’s dad is also a whiskey fan and will (not that) begrudgingly forfeit an ancient bottle to me while grumbling furiously and saying a lot of swear words which, if you ask me, means he needs more whiskey.

The smell of whiskey is akin to the smell of coffee brewing or cookies baking in the oven – you know good things are coming. I recently found out that Tim McGraw has a cologne (who knew?!) called McGraw (surprisingly) which is comprised of, among other things: moss, sandalwood, and AGED WHISKEY (available at Walmart and Kohl’s… seriously). So, immediately, I was like OMG, I NEED TO FIND THIS. I WANT A MAN THAT SMELLS LIKE THIS. THIS IS AMAZINGGGGGG.

You know you have a problem when you think the idea of a man smelling like alcohol becomes appealing. Because who doesn’t want to cuddle up to someone who smells like an alcoholic, right? AM I RIGHT?! Yes. I am. Dab some Jameson’s on your neck and I guess I’ll be yours forever.

But let’s be clear. I’m not sharing my bottle of whiskey. No, you have to be extra special for that to happen – I refuse to share with just anyone. Now, I’m going to go drink my Jack and (diet) Coke in peace. Thankyouverymuch.

– Sarah #2