The kids WANT me to drink

Not only do the kids regularly DRIVE me to drink; they WANT me to drink. Look at these awesome pictures Miss V drew for me.


I think it must be a tequila sunrise.


Something tells me that has rum in it. And vodka.

Something tells me this has rum in it. 


When I asked V what this one was, she said "orange crush." So there you have it: orange crush with vodka. Happy Friday, methinks.

When I asked V what this one was, she said “orange crush.” So there you have it: orange crush with vodka. Happy Friday, methinks.

Give that cat a drink

My mum yelled at me today because—again—my name showed up in one of her client emails. She said it was embarrassing, even mortifying, to receive a response with “Liquorstore Bear” in the address field. We have no idea how that happened, but she’s been giving me the evil eye.

So, I needed something to cheer me up. Just a little something, my fellow inebriates, because I don’t really like getting yelled at for technical problems. I don’t even have fingers for typing, so how could I have insinuated myself into my mum’s professional life?

I was actually feeling pretty sniffly-sad. And then I saw this awesome pic.

Right? I have never seen anything more rad.

And, lest you think it irrelevant to the ramblings of a liquor-obsessed bear, here’s a drink in honor of this awesome animal.


1/4 cup Everclear® alcohol
1/4 cup Bacardi® 151 rum
1/2 cup Bailey’s® Irish cream
1/4 cup Jagermeister® herbal liqueur
1/2 cup Blue Curacao liqueur
1 cup milk
3 cups ice

Combine all ingredients in a blender. Blend well until smooth and pour into a pitcher. Pour into Liquorstore Bear’s mouth.

Thank you, Drinks Mixer. And thank you, Mewbacca.

Question(s) of the day

My Fellow Inebriates,

Emily, presumably looking for a subject matter expert, forwarded me this question:

Emily's search terms bear odor

I love this. It’s like the person wanted to make sure Emily knew what the question meant—i.e., not how a bear detects scents (try 4000 x human sensitivity, people) but how filthy a bear actually smells to its unfortunate family. Yes, bears smell. And they smell. Bad.

Meanwhile, my friend Patti asked me if I’d seen this item on the shelves:


Holy crap, MFI, I had not noticed this product. Patti, as God/Thor/the Great Spaghetti Monster/the Zombie Collective is my witness, I will not rest until we have it at LBHQ.

And then, as if life wasn’t exciting enough, I learned I’d been named in a will:

Named in will scam

Awesome, right?? The first thing I did was grab my dad’s credit card and send the digits to my benefactor (including, of course, the three-digit security code). Who wouldn’t love an inheritance? My dad will be so happy when he finds out. Maybe he’ll buy me that Pumpkin Face Rum…or some deodorant.