LBHQ: The year in pictures

OMG, my fellow inebriates, I almost slept through the my anniversary. Only by accident did I even realize this daily dose of randomness is a year old. Holy crap, how did that happen?

One year ago I had no idea what this thing was going to be about. Well, sure, I knew it would be about liquor, but I didn’t even have any idea what to say. Uh, liquor is good? The picture above was my banner, then this one…

Up until the blog, scenes like this defined my life:

But as the humans around me realized I was actually going to do this blog thing for real, scenes like the one below became more the norm. This day in November is still one of the most awesome I’ve ever had. My parents’ friend Pixie gave me a bottle of Crystal Head vodka—the best breakfast ever.

I loved that bottle, even though the vodka was kind of crappy.

But vodka wasn’t the only inspirational liquid to flow into LBHQ. When I learned our liquor store was no longer carrying one of my favorite products, Broker’s Gin, I hastened to contact Broker’s and ended up making one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I know Broker’s Gin Business Development Manager Julia Gale would do anything for me, as I would for her.

While I couldn’t have my beloved gin (and still haven’t got it, although I’ve cheated on Julia with at least half a dozen other brands this year), I did have art. In January artist Dan Lacey kindly sent me a print:

Blogging ideas often came unbidden…

But it wasn’t as challenging as you might think to connect subjects to alcohol.

Still, I had other obligations at home…

I lived in terror. When I wasn’t involved in “play,” I was listening to Scarybear’s prophecies about the end of the world. And then there was Fluffy…

Harboring the ghost of my dead Granny, Fluffy had arrived recently from Ireland. Our home would never be at peace again…bumps in the night, freaky cold spots, big wads of paper jamming up the toilet. Was there nothing Fluffy wouldn’t do to terrify us?

I needed distractions.

Some distractions were good, others not so good…

I tried to account for myself.

I had projects to do. Talking a bunch of gummy bears into (accidentally) a suicide mission was just one of them. (I didn’t know they’d melt in the Bacardi Big Apple.)

Depressed, I went to my friend Blackie for help.

I don’t think he’s a real psychiatrist. He’s not supposed to laugh, is he?

Another project that did not go well. So I just tried to figure stuff out.

I learned all about colonoscopies.

But I couldn’t figure this out.

We moved headquarters in August and my parents liquidated our already meager stock.

I don’t think my mother ever cleans the sink; it tasted horrible.

I went on a deep search for wisdom. I was lost, people. Living with functioning human beings who didn’t descend nightly into a drunken binge wasn’t working for me. I needed a message—some sort of message that everything was going to be okay…

I think it’s going to be okay.

Thanks for reading, my fellow inebriates! You’ve made me so happy this past year. Let me know what you’re drinking tonight 🙂

What’s in your drawers?

Only when my mum started packing for the LBHQ move did I learn about all these tools, wedged into various drawers and whatnot. Everybody probably has a similar collection.

They really don’t get enough use. Owing to my parents’ grievously small beer-appreciation range, not a lot of specialty beers cross our threshold. Beers that do gain admittance to the LBHQ fridge invariably surrender to a twist-off action and/or one particular bottle opener.

I like these tools because they represent the only realistic chance for me to have a party when my parents go out. Ideally, though, I’d like one mounted against the wall, about eight inches off the floor.

How do you get your bottles open? And what about the bears in your house—how do they do it?

The secret world of hedonistic gummy bears

My Fellow Inebriates,

One of my Facebook friends posted this on my wall:

The Internet is full of good ideas, as anyone who’s ever researched a possible medical condition will attest. There aren’t too many better ideas than this one.

As it happened, four-year-old Miss V had a whole bunch of gummy bears, and there was a mostly empty bottle of Bacardi Big Apple languishing in the liquor cabinet. Perfect preschool activity, wouldn’t you say?

But first I had to ask the gummy bears what they thought of the idea.

They were totally cool with it, although the white one kept falling down, which made me think it was drunk already.

Even as I warned them about the hazards, the white one wasn’t listening.

V and I helped them line up. Look at that yellow one getting pushy.

At the top, the gummy bear hesitated. So V ate it.

He who hesitates is lost. V nabbed this one as well. She didn’t really think we were going to let them drop.

Nor did my mother. This was totally an accident (the kind that happens when you prop a 2-cm gummy bear across a 3-cm hole).

“Daddy’s not going to like that!” said V.

“Sure he will,” said my mum.

By now the other gummy bears were frantic with excitement.

V got busy. “Mummy, what’s this drink called? Mummy, does LB like it? Does he want to drink it?”

They look so happy in there. That bottle’s been in our cupboard for almost four years, helping no one. Now it’s a party bottle.

Kinda reminds me of this other bottle.