This word reminds me of a cute little reindeer friend of mine. She dared me to kiss her at a bar once. Luckily for her very inebriated self, I decided long ago that I don’t kiss guys or gals for any reason that is not related to true love. Although I did offer to give her a hickey. What can I say – I’m not a saint. Being slightly-naughty is like a life-long hobby for me.
i never drank no whiskey but it reminds me of old men with long white beards in red flannel shirts sitting in log cabins with their thumbs in their suspenders
Whiskey is a type of alcohol. According to me, at least, I think it is a bit like scotch, even though I’ve never tried either. People can get drunk off it, because it’s so potent when compared with beer or the like. Possibly also because it’s viewed as an upper class drink.
makes everyone drunk it makes me really drunk but I’ve never even tried one before so I don’t really have any authority to state this. why am I even here? what is whiskey? I know it’s alcohol but what more is it? what makes it special? I really want to know. I understand that alcohol is an acquired taste and I don’t really want that taste, alcohol is good for social events but not for peer pressure.
Oh boy. The Whiskey Trials. How much whiskey can one person drink? Well, that’s not exactly the point. The point is to drink so much whiskey that nobody will serve you at any bar, but not too much that they won’t let you in. And if they won’t let you in, you can expect it ahead of time, make a scene, and move on to the next place. After all, it’s about the journey not the destination.
Given a chance, I would try whiskey. Though under-age as I am, I cannot. A sip of whiskey eludes me for now. I heard rumors though, that such an alcohol is enticing in flavor.
I love whiskey, it makes me feel so refine. I feel like a woman in the 60’s with my red lips, cigarette and my glass of whiskey. I think it should be a day when you can go drunk to school, it would be more interesting and fun, but i really think it would generate really cool ideas, from that day.
oh alcohol. whiskey is such a strong, and not so comfortable word. almost like LOVE! no let me stop, actually let me continue. its hard to swallow. once you get that first sip its like..holy cow what was i thinking? but then you get used to it, and once you get the hang of it, its not so bad. am i making sense now?
one bottle down and one body in the gutter. she could feel the cold water rushing underneath her face. the smell, the filth, everything. no matter, she belonged there.
Today had been all about whiskey. The Drinking, the sting as it hit one’s tounge and the bitter taste it left, the buzzing in your ears after you took your 3rd or 4th shot, the chill of ice cubes as you caress them with your tongue, wanting to get every drop off in hopes it would make the dull pain of the day’s normality fall off your shoulders.
The man stumbled into the room and his lover gasped; his lip had been busted and one eye had a black, darkened ring around it. In his hand he clutched the car keys and younger man wondered how he’d managed not to crash. He was clearly drunk out of his mind. He ran to his lover and helped him over to the bed, the man beaming.
“What happened to you?”
“I fuckin’ won.”
they were drunk off of some cheap whiskey
bought half-price at some ramshackle liquor
store in some ghetto part of town they’d never
known actually existed. they didn’t like whiskey.
it was more like they never really felt it going
down; jack hated alcohol and alexis preferred
vodka. but it got the job done, and that was
enough for them. they were crazy in love (jack
with some married prostitute and alexis with an
engineering major living in china) and hopelessly
so. what else to do but drink your sorrows away?
And you held that heated glass to my lips, and that fire scorched my throat so hard I thought I might burst. Your head, a pilow. The stars, our sunset. In time I suspect you might just come back to wrap me up, carry me down in those arms that smell of grain whiskey — sharp as fire, raw, and real.
The whiskey shot straight to his brain. He cringed at first taste, but the later it got, the more he tolerated them, one after another. “Hey pretty thing.” “Hi there baby. Can I buy you a drink?” “Sexy legs, let me get you something.” But, as each one passed through, he failed, again and again, and appeared invisible, as not a single one responded, completely ignoring his comments. “Well, even a “No, thanks” would be appreciated,” he muttered. As he got up to leave, he lifted his hand to his chest to remove his wallet from the pocket within his suit. As he pulled a hundred dollar bill from the wallet, he looked down to see blood covering his hand. He panicked, nearly falling out of the chair, then tripping over the body lying on the floor. As he squeamishly drew back further, he gathered up the courage to look at the man lying there. He looked so familiar, but who…as he flipped the man to lie face up, he was drawn back by the horrifying revelation. The man was him. And, he was dead.
“The whiskey smelled like death,” he said. It really did. It really, really did. “I’m paralyzed. I can’t do anything because no one told me to,” came the response. “So I’m sitting here until I can figure out what’s next.”
it burns as it slides down her throat.
it burns just like the water does as it runs down her spine.
she has been reduced to this – wet hair, a bottle in her first, and the shower splashing out onto the tiles.
he did this to her. or perhaps she did it to herself.
but does it matter?
does it count?
right now, all that matters is that the bottle is empty.
and when the bottle is empty, her head is not.
What great story doesn’t start with whiskey? The last time I drank whiskey, I woke up in Nova Scotia with my wife and two kids under one arm and two left legs under the other. Who the hell knows what that means? I don’t know. I’m drunk on whiskey right now. haha.
i love whiskey because it gives you a break from when you have been drinking vodka too much. Also, it gets you hammered faster. last night me and my friend jackie drank whiskey out of an orange juice carton and it got us super drunk. then we parties. Whiskey is alot yummier than other alcoholic beverages
i love whiskey because it gives you a break from when you have been drinking vodka too much. Also, it gets you hammered faster. last night me and my friend jackie drank whiskey out of an orange juice carton and it got us super drunk. then we parties. Whiskey is alot yummier than other alcoholic beverages
i filled a glass. the day had shown on my face. more grief than one could imagine had burdened me. my daily glass of whiskey was my only relief, my only constant.
whiskey is known as the national drink of scotland. it’s incredibly strong. …. i’m not big on any sort of alcohol, but i tried it once and it almost made me cry, haha, but it really does warm you up. it’s perfect for the winter. i went to a destillery called Bells)in the scottish highlands) once and at some point, even the smell around the place made me sick. it was very weird. they say you can’t drink it with ice, or else it’ll ruin it. it’s like a sacrilege or something. i wouldn’t know either way. i love scotland, though so anyone who goes there, do yourself a favor and forget jack daniel’s(is that actually whiskey?) and definitely try the local whiskey around there if you can.
whiskey is one of the most addictive drugs ever to have existed. Scientist have proven that whiskey makes people 40 times more stupid than Cannabis, eventually. It also killed my dad. And it was invented in Alabama, really.
The way she was lookin’ at me, you’d think she never saw a real cowboy before. I tipped my hat with the same hand that was holdin’ my whiskey, as I turned to let her see my chaps. But she was lookin’ straight through me to the indian back in the corner.
Whiskey lullaby sings me to sleep, whispering softly as I weep. I lay and drift to a drunken place, of whisky music sex and lace. Sofly does the whiskey lullaby weep.
day one, day two. and the whiskey is still pouring into the clear pristine glass, making it hard for the words to escape his lips, while he staggers into the cupboard again to find his medicine, only to realize that this poison is his fix, and he stumbles back into the ring to realize that he is making it like this and cannot do it any other way.
Lookin at the shelf, i saw the whisky sitting there. long hours ago, i heard the door lock from the outside, my parents out for a ball of some kind. and there the whisky was. i had tried the cutting, didnt work, i had tried, the fighting, that didnt either, now its time to reach for the bottles that have ruined so many lives before me.
The whiskey in father’s mug was a tan color, resembling that of a healing bruise. i couldn’t help but notice Mother’s new one. They argue and bicker, and it never, never stops.
i like it. it gets you drunk and has a good time going down. i like getting drunk, but most of all i like getting drunk on whiskey. i’m not a drunk, i’m just dedicated to the things i love.
The caramel colored liquid sloshed in my glass and I blearily looked at him from across the room. It may have been the whiskey talking, but I wanted that boy bad.
I took the shot. It was sour. I felt it burn in my ears. I set the glass down, unsure of what to do next. My behavior seemed so out of place. How could I do something like this?
He brought the shot of whiskey to his mouth, then paused. A small smile appeared as he thought about the promise he made, then the shot was set down and an order for a coke made.
I like whiskey. It bites. It burns. It leaves you gasping. Whiskey leaves me crazy. Whiskey leaves me drunk. Whiskey is the nirvana of the old and crusty. Why whiskey? Why not?!
It burned as the strong whiskey slowly flowed down my throat. I’d already had a few too many drinks, but I was the most sober of my friends, and he was nice. We were dancing around a room in which no one else was even conscious, but he held me up as I fell deeper and deeper into my drunken bliss.
There was the bottle again. Sitting there. Taunting me. What would I do for another sip of that intoxicating elixir. What a new person I’d become! I’d become so wonderful and lovely. Gorgeous and full of laughter. I’d become someone not so depressing. -just a story idea
whisky one would think to call it a drink but some people stink. There is no way around the truth of the matter that whiskey is only going to turn you into a mad hatter the problem is is whith these kids that they wont stop cant stopp till they get enough. It will never be enough untill they get tough.
This word reminds me of a cute little reindeer friend of mine. She dared me to kiss her at a bar once. Luckily for her very inebriated self, I decided long ago that I don’t kiss guys or gals for any reason that is not related to true love. Although I did offer to give her a hickey. What can I say – I’m not a saint. Being slightly-naughty is like a life-long hobby for me.
i never drank no whiskey but it reminds me of old men with long white beards in red flannel shirts sitting in log cabins with their thumbs in their suspenders
Whiskey is a type of alcohol. According to me, at least, I think it is a bit like scotch, even though I’ve never tried either. People can get drunk off it, because it’s so potent when compared with beer or the like. Possibly also because it’s viewed as an upper class drink.
makes everyone drunk it makes me really drunk but I’ve never even tried one before so I don’t really have any authority to state this. why am I even here? what is whiskey? I know it’s alcohol but what more is it? what makes it special? I really want to know. I understand that alcohol is an acquired taste and I don’t really want that taste, alcohol is good for social events but not for peer pressure.
Oh boy. The Whiskey Trials. How much whiskey can one person drink? Well, that’s not exactly the point. The point is to drink so much whiskey that nobody will serve you at any bar, but not too much that they won’t let you in. And if they won’t let you in, you can expect it ahead of time, make a scene, and move on to the next place. After all, it’s about the journey not the destination.
Given a chance, I would try whiskey. Though under-age as I am, I cannot. A sip of whiskey eludes me for now. I heard rumors though, that such an alcohol is enticing in flavor.
I love whiskey, it makes me feel so refine. I feel like a woman in the 60’s with my red lips, cigarette and my glass of whiskey. I think it should be a day when you can go drunk to school, it would be more interesting and fun, but i really think it would generate really cool ideas, from that day.
oh alcohol. whiskey is such a strong, and not so comfortable word. almost like LOVE! no let me stop, actually let me continue. its hard to swallow. once you get that first sip its like..holy cow what was i thinking? but then you get used to it, and once you get the hang of it, its not so bad. am i making sense now?
one bottle down and one body in the gutter. she could feel the cold water rushing underneath her face. the smell, the filth, everything. no matter, she belonged there.
Today had been all about whiskey. The Drinking, the sting as it hit one’s tounge and the bitter taste it left, the buzzing in your ears after you took your 3rd or 4th shot, the chill of ice cubes as you caress them with your tongue, wanting to get every drop off in hopes it would make the dull pain of the day’s normality fall off your shoulders.
The man stumbled into the room and his lover gasped; his lip had been busted and one eye had a black, darkened ring around it. In his hand he clutched the car keys and younger man wondered how he’d managed not to crash. He was clearly drunk out of his mind. He ran to his lover and helped him over to the bed, the man beaming.
“What happened to you?”
“I fuckin’ won.”
they were drunk off of some cheap whiskey
bought half-price at some ramshackle liquor
store in some ghetto part of town they’d never
known actually existed. they didn’t like whiskey.
it was more like they never really felt it going
down; jack hated alcohol and alexis preferred
vodka. but it got the job done, and that was
enough for them. they were crazy in love (jack
with some married prostitute and alexis with an
engineering major living in china) and hopelessly
so. what else to do but drink your sorrows away?
And you held that heated glass to my lips, and that fire scorched my throat so hard I thought I might burst. Your head, a pilow. The stars, our sunset. In time I suspect you might just come back to wrap me up, carry me down in those arms that smell of grain whiskey — sharp as fire, raw, and real.
The whiskey shot straight to his brain. He cringed at first taste, but the later it got, the more he tolerated them, one after another. “Hey pretty thing.” “Hi there baby. Can I buy you a drink?” “Sexy legs, let me get you something.” But, as each one passed through, he failed, again and again, and appeared invisible, as not a single one responded, completely ignoring his comments. “Well, even a “No, thanks” would be appreciated,” he muttered. As he got up to leave, he lifted his hand to his chest to remove his wallet from the pocket within his suit. As he pulled a hundred dollar bill from the wallet, he looked down to see blood covering his hand. He panicked, nearly falling out of the chair, then tripping over the body lying on the floor. As he squeamishly drew back further, he gathered up the courage to look at the man lying there. He looked so familiar, but who…as he flipped the man to lie face up, he was drawn back by the horrifying revelation. The man was him. And, he was dead.
“The whiskey smelled like death,” he said. It really did. It really, really did. “I’m paralyzed. I can’t do anything because no one told me to,” came the response. “So I’m sitting here until I can figure out what’s next.”
That’s the dumbest thing he ever heard.
it burns as it slides down her throat.
it burns just like the water does as it runs down her spine.
she has been reduced to this – wet hair, a bottle in her first, and the shower splashing out onto the tiles.
he did this to her. or perhaps she did it to herself.
but does it matter?
does it count?
right now, all that matters is that the bottle is empty.
and when the bottle is empty, her head is not.
What great story doesn’t start with whiskey? The last time I drank whiskey, I woke up in Nova Scotia with my wife and two kids under one arm and two left legs under the other. Who the hell knows what that means? I don’t know. I’m drunk on whiskey right now. haha.
Whiskey makes me think of country music.
i love whiskey because it gives you a break from when you have been drinking vodka too much. Also, it gets you hammered faster. last night me and my friend jackie drank whiskey out of an orange juice carton and it got us super drunk. then we parties. Whiskey is alot yummier than other alcoholic beverages
i love whiskey because it gives you a break from when you have been drinking vodka too much. Also, it gets you hammered faster. last night me and my friend jackie drank whiskey out of an orange juice carton and it got us super drunk. then we parties. Whiskey is alot yummier than other alcoholic beverages
i filled a glass. the day had shown on my face. more grief than one could imagine had burdened me. my daily glass of whiskey was my only relief, my only constant.
whiskey is known as the national drink of scotland. it’s incredibly strong. …. i’m not big on any sort of alcohol, but i tried it once and it almost made me cry, haha, but it really does warm you up. it’s perfect for the winter. i went to a destillery called Bells)in the scottish highlands) once and at some point, even the smell around the place made me sick. it was very weird. they say you can’t drink it with ice, or else it’ll ruin it. it’s like a sacrilege or something. i wouldn’t know either way. i love scotland, though so anyone who goes there, do yourself a favor and forget jack daniel’s(is that actually whiskey?) and definitely try the local whiskey around there if you can.
whiskey is one of the most addictive drugs ever to have existed. Scientist have proven that whiskey makes people 40 times more stupid than Cannabis, eventually. It also killed my dad. And it was invented in Alabama, really.
Irish. Altering.
people drinking. Abuse against a female. captain morgan is a brand of whiskey. i associate whiskey with a good time, but also with puking.
The way she was lookin’ at me, you’d think she never saw a real cowboy before. I tipped my hat with the same hand that was holdin’ my whiskey, as I turned to let her see my chaps. But she was lookin’ straight through me to the indian back in the corner.
Whiskey lullaby sings me to sleep, whispering softly as I weep. I lay and drift to a drunken place, of whisky music sex and lace. Sofly does the whiskey lullaby weep.
day one, day two. and the whiskey is still pouring into the clear pristine glass, making it hard for the words to escape his lips, while he staggers into the cupboard again to find his medicine, only to realize that this poison is his fix, and he stumbles back into the ring to realize that he is making it like this and cannot do it any other way.
Lookin at the shelf, i saw the whisky sitting there. long hours ago, i heard the door lock from the outside, my parents out for a ball of some kind. and there the whisky was. i had tried the cutting, didnt work, i had tried, the fighting, that didnt either, now its time to reach for the bottles that have ruined so many lives before me.
canadian ltd. jackdaniels.drunk,vomit, party party party. SHOTS! more shots. sex.geat sex. anger, crying, crying, crying. party
The whiskey in father’s mug was a tan color, resembling that of a healing bruise. i couldn’t help but notice Mother’s new one. They argue and bicker, and it never, never stops.
dear whiskey how you occupy my mind!
i’ve never been with a woman with such rich color!
i like it. it gets you drunk and has a good time going down. i like getting drunk, but most of all i like getting drunk on whiskey. i’m not a drunk, i’m just dedicated to the things i love.
The caramel colored liquid sloshed in my glass and I blearily looked at him from across the room. It may have been the whiskey talking, but I wanted that boy bad.
I took the shot. It was sour. I felt it burn in my ears. I set the glass down, unsure of what to do next. My behavior seemed so out of place. How could I do something like this?
He brought the shot of whiskey to his mouth, then paused. A small smile appeared as he thought about the promise he made, then the shot was set down and an order for a coke made.
I like whiskey. It bites. It burns. It leaves you gasping. Whiskey leaves me crazy. Whiskey leaves me drunk. Whiskey is the nirvana of the old and crusty. Why whiskey? Why not?!
It burned as the strong whiskey slowly flowed down my throat. I’d already had a few too many drinks, but I was the most sober of my friends, and he was nice. We were dancing around a room in which no one else was even conscious, but he held me up as I fell deeper and deeper into my drunken bliss.
There was the bottle again. Sitting there. Taunting me. What would I do for another sip of that intoxicating elixir. What a new person I’d become! I’d become so wonderful and lovely. Gorgeous and full of laughter. I’d become someone not so depressing. -just a story idea
whisky one would think to call it a drink but some people stink. There is no way around the truth of the matter that whiskey is only going to turn you into a mad hatter the problem is is whith these kids that they wont stop cant stopp till they get enough. It will never be enough untill they get tough.