Over my DEAD mangy bearskin hide!

My fellow inebriates,

As you know, I have a deep and abiding love for Broker’s Gin and its most admirable Business Development Manager Julia Gale. Why, just yesterday morning I suggested we pour ourselves a gin & tonic for breakfast, only to have the idea shot down peremptorily by my killjoy parents. I imagine Julia, eight hours ahead of us in England, agreeing with me that it was not too early for gin, particularly given the daily, intense drama that surrounds the process of urging V out of bed and onward to school.

My conviction that Julia Gale and the chaps at Broker’s have my back and support all my hopes and dreams is what shocks me so intensely about THIS photo from my Twitter feed:

Broker's Gin on possibly bearskin rug OMG

OMG, right?

Is that really…?

Could it be…?

Is that a BEARSKIN RUG?

WreckSpex Zebra wood

Monday morning pick-me-up

My Fellow Inebriates,

I’m a big fan of Drinks Mixer, so I often find myself there on Monday morning looking for a pick-me-up. The question is, am I going to acquire any gin anytime soon?

You see, the random drink function on Drinks Mixer has commanded me to fix myself a Dick Cheney shooter. Now, this is a relatively new drink, originated by ShotDrinks.com eponymously after a certain hunting incident in the US, and containing these ingredients:

  • 1 part gin
  • 1 part lemon lime soda
  • 1/2 part rum
  • splash grenadine

Instructions say to use just enough grenadine to give the drink a reddish tint, not make it as “red as the blood that Dick Cheney inflicted on his hunting partner.” Ouch!

I don’t have any grenadine, so my drink—should my gin arrive today—is going to be bloodless, which is fine, because blood really, really freaks me out. Also, I don’t have a clue who Dick Cheney is. I’m just a bear, after all.

I spent a few minutes trying to contact him this morning but learned he is uncontactable (is that like “unaccountable”?). I thought, if I managed to get hold of him, I would ask him to send me some gin. But then I started worrying that he might have some bear-hunting experience and come after me. I would probably be easier to hit than a quail but slightly more difficult than Harry Whittington.

I started worrying about bears getting shot, then, and went ahead and resorted to drinking leftover Malibu, my fallback in a household where liquor shopping is not sufficiently prioritized and my cries for spirits go heedless. And through the Malibu blur I started wondering how I could help animals, especially animals staring down the barrel of a gun, punk animals who don’t feel so lucky. So I dicked around with my site a bit and learned that I could add a charity area that you guys can click on to support animals. I’m excited about being able to support the World Wildlife Fund, and I hope you’ll do your bit and click your support as well. Cheers, friends!