alcohol

I dream of gin

My Fellow Inebriates,

Let’s get something going to finish the weekend. Monday mornings suck anyway, so you might as well arrive at work green tomorrow.

It’s freaking cold out, but I have a lot of fur, so I’m going for a Watermelon Martini, made with gin. I miss summer, and although watermelons could bankrupt a person right now, I just want that summer taste.

$38. Going, going....

Admittedly I’m a little morose today…my painting will go to the person who can pony up $38 or more tomorrow morning at 5:00, an hour I’ve never been cognizant of on either side of bedtime.

Do you guys feel down in the winter? Bears are supposed to hibernate in the winter, huddled up with other bears. Their hearts slow down, and they’re tucked away from the wicked world all winter. I’d like to hibernate like a wild bear. But instead I’m going to get wrecked and pass out.

BROKER’S GIN—PART 3!

My Fellow Inebriates,

I’m delighted to tell you that things are back on with Julia Gale of BROKER’S GIN.

What things, you ask?

Well, for one thing we’re discussing how to get this elysian potion back into British Columbia, my home province. (You may have noticed some distance between us following Julia’s suggestion that I shop cross-border for BROKER’S GIN, a terrifying prospect for reasons I can’t fully elucidate. Perhaps I even mentioned a shift in my affections. Drunken madness!) Julia reassured me today that she is in my corner.

But first, the problem. It’s hard for a bear to drive to the United States. Even if I could (a) get sober to drive and (b) drive, the border guards present some very daunting obstacles:

  1. They insist on a passport with a smile-free photo so their facial-cognition software can work its mojo. Did I mention excess facial hair interferes with that? For me it’s always Movember.
  2. They like to fingerprint travelers. I don’t actually have fingers; my paws are more like little nubs.
  3. No searchable cavity here, peeps! Just a suspicious beanbag texture. What’s in there? they would surely want to know.

So the border’s a no-go. I was distraught to think Julia had left me with an unviable option, and may have said some dismissive things elsewhere on this site. But I was very wrong to do so. Julia told me today that BROKER’S GIN owner/director team Andy Dawson and Martin Dawson will be flying to BC in the New Year to fix things.

This is tremendous news, although I can’t fathom why they’d leave an asset like Julia at home. I am still basking in her warmth and concern for my liquor inventory; she is the most exceptional business development manager I’ve ever corresponded with. This is what I told her:

Very nice to hear Andy and Martin are visiting BC. Why are you not joining them? It sounds like a bit of a sausage fest, just the three of us boys getting drunk together and laughing at each other’s hats.

BROKER’S GIN seems almost within reach. Do I dare to hope?

Conversation with my buzzkill parents

My Fellow Inebriates,

The holidays are drawing closer and nobody’s stocking up our liquor cabinet. That, coupled with my anxiety over my ebay bid on a Dan Lacey painting, is making things a little tense. Finally I sent my parents a link to my liquor wish list, reckoning that if they would at least address that, we could relax and be festive.

But my parents are buzzkills.

 

I do kind of like the kids. They don’t actually play with me very much, although I get my moments in the spotlight for sure.

This really illustrates how much empathy they have. They seriously don’t care if we have booze for the holidays or not.

So casual!

And so heartless. Say it ain’t so, people. I don’t have a plan B.