my dad’s last drink was a glass of whiskey. he never liked whiskey. he thought it is too strong. But he needed something strong that night. he wanted something that will give him courage. something that would allow him to hold that gun up to my sister.
I sipped at the whiskey I was passed. Focusing on keeping my poker face. I had to have as much confidence as everyone surronding me or I wouldn’t fit in. I wondered if anyone else was pretending too. Pretending to like whiskey, pretending to not care about school work, pretending…
hm i like it…can’t believe that was invented what genious was that guy’girl o my god…really it so strong that i cant believe.. maybe one day i do something great as that…just maybe….this is enough for me i am alive and it’s cool
How weird to read this word up here, she thought and then she still grabbed the bottle and then put it back again on this shelf it was supposed to stay in, labeled and sealed. … if it weren’t that fucking tempting, she thought …
whiskey the yellow fly down it buzzed round full room full of clothes
you’ll drink tonight like the yellow it yellowed by the cat howled moon
and in the cigarette buds the silver canister drunk soft too
the forest outside your window city will fall this night soon
soon the mohair air is soon
go bed sully by smoke and balling clothes at the cat howled moon
Whiskey sours. That’s what his breath smelt like; one too many whiskey sours. The sweetness of the liquour mixed with the bitterness of the sour washed over her as his lips attacked her neck, her mind silently willing him to stop.
I think drinking alcohol right now is not in my agenda. Whiskey probably tastes horrible. Where is that whiskey? Oh, probably in my house. It is yellow or dark brown? Yuck. Time is almost done.. whiskey…
Ah, it flows on a Friday night more freely than the life I have known to live, and it does so quite colorfully. The plans we made were never fulfilled, but none of that mattered on the stools of our weekend devotion.
Her life was a mess, a disarray of sorts. It was time to pull out her stash of whiskey; leaving behind the pink fruity cosmos. While it burned a path down her throat, she could feel all her mind blur and temporarily dissolve.
I’ve been called a good ol’ boy throughout my life, and sometimes I like to drink whiskey and rye with my fellow good ol’ boys. I don’t know why, but whenever we do, we assume that we will die that day, and we express this feeling through song. I don’t think I’m going to drink whiskey and rye anymore.
Fun in the moment. Fun at the party. Fun when others around you are fun. Fun the day of. Miserable the day after. Miserable years after, when others around you are hurt.
My first taste of whiskey was from a bottle marked Blue Label. My brother handed me the plastic cup during our dance practice for his wedding, said it was “for courage,” to loosen us up. After that first swallow, I was a goner.
It was the wiskey that ruined my family. If my father hadn’t come home drunk, im sure wed still be together. it was never my father who spoke for himself, the whiskey always seem to take charge.
I think I’ve had whiskey at one point in my life, when I was five and my neighbor’s dad who was probably drunk at the time thought it would be funny to give us some whiskey. it tasted horrible and I spat it out.
toss back some whiskey and make thoughtless memories come alive. forget what you did. forget what happened but remember the drink that gave life to your voice when you were unable to speak consciously.
whiskey is the drink of good times and misfortune. many a family man has squandered his paycheck on a bottle of jack for himself than food for his children. that delicious vile liquid, how many people are you going to grab by the nuts? party hardy, said the commie, the whiskey is always good.
Like caramel it sits at the bottom of the glass, poured straight from the whiskey bottle. And like caramel time slowly moves along the sides of the glass into my mouth. The taste is bittersweet.
He put the bottle down and sauntered towards the bed. As he hauled himself onto the sheets he muttered: “What are you doing here?” just as he passed out. But the time he woke up the next morning, I had left.
haha cat i dont really like cats. i prefer dogs. whiskey.. reminds me of whiskers thats why i wrote about cats in the first place. heh. so.. speaking of dogs.. and cats.. which means rain right.. it hasn’t been raining much and the weather’s so warm. i like dogs. i just read news about how a dog saved a owner’s life because the dog bite off the owner’s infected toe, since he had diabetes but refused to visit the doctor.
she sat at the bar, attempting to keep herself steady on the worn and emaciated stool. she nodded at the man. “double whiskey on ice please” he looks shunned. turns away and fixes her drink.
a drop of whiskey will sooth the nerves, well, that was the line. The problem was the nerves seemed to need a lot of soothing.And my nerves were beginning to frey
Whiskey is the root of evil. It tore our family apart and we will never get back what we had. I am ashamed to say that I was the one who first discovered it.
Whisky in the bottle, only a few drips left, hitting my tongue like atomic bombs, ready to explode in my subconscious, burning with the fumes of escape.
im going to whiskey you away. I don’t really drink whiskey.. although on my last trip to Ireland I got some irish coffee which has whiskey in it! Im only 17, but hey, live a little right?
A number of famous writers had whiskey problems. With American writers it was bourbon. I also have a problem with bourbon. When I have drunk too much my writing becomes fluid and free. But then I pay with an enormous headache.
i could smell it
no matter how hard
you may have tried
to hide it from me
your dirty little secret
paired with whiskey
on your breath
old and stale
just like your promises
Whiskey. Goldtransparent im achteckigen Glas. Kommt da Eis rein oder nicht? Und welche Cocktails lassen sich damit mischen? Geht das überhaupt? Oder oute ich mich mit dieser Frage mal wieder als vollkommen unexpertisch und naiv?
my dad’s last drink was a glass of whiskey. he never liked whiskey. he thought it is too strong. But he needed something strong that night. he wanted something that will give him courage. something that would allow him to hold that gun up to my sister.
I sipped at the whiskey I was passed. Focusing on keeping my poker face. I had to have as much confidence as everyone surronding me or I wouldn’t fit in. I wondered if anyone else was pretending too. Pretending to like whiskey, pretending to not care about school work, pretending…
hm i like it…can’t believe that was invented what genious was that guy’girl o my god…really it so strong that i cant believe.. maybe one day i do something great as that…just maybe….this is enough for me i am alive and it’s cool
How weird to read this word up here, she thought and then she still grabbed the bottle and then put it back again on this shelf it was supposed to stay in, labeled and sealed. … if it weren’t that fucking tempting, she thought …
It’s a mans drink. In a college I drank whiskey, just to keep up with the boys. I was good at keeping up with the boys, until after college.
I had a shot of whiskey the other week. I survived it. I havent felt that proud in a long time.
A long time favourite.
Smoldering liquid gold that wafts down my throat and thaws my stomach.
Never realised how icy I was inside.
whiskey the yellow fly down it buzzed round full room full of clothes
you’ll drink tonight like the yellow it yellowed by the cat howled moon
and in the cigarette buds the silver canister drunk soft too
the forest outside your window city will fall this night soon
soon the mohair air is soon
go bed sully by smoke and balling clothes at the cat howled moon
Whiskey sours. That’s what his breath smelt like; one too many whiskey sours. The sweetness of the liquour mixed with the bitterness of the sour washed over her as his lips attacked her neck, her mind silently willing him to stop.
It makes me mean. I like to yell. It tastes like cream sometimes. Its good for you. Its bad for you. I like it straight.
He slammed the
whiskey glass
down
tipped the bartender
went home
and kissed his wife for the
first time in years.
Friend. Warm and kicky . Trustworthy and sneaky. Love at first sip. Unpredictably
reliable.
I think drinking alcohol right now is not in my agenda. Whiskey probably tastes horrible. Where is that whiskey? Oh, probably in my house. It is yellow or dark brown? Yuck. Time is almost done.. whiskey…
Ah, it flows on a Friday night more freely than the life I have known to live, and it does so quite colorfully. The plans we made were never fulfilled, but none of that mattered on the stools of our weekend devotion.
Her life was a mess, a disarray of sorts. It was time to pull out her stash of whiskey; leaving behind the pink fruity cosmos. While it burned a path down her throat, she could feel all her mind blur and temporarily dissolve.
ding dong whiskey is the water of life ding dong the bottle’s dead. Another round bartender
The whiskey burned down my throat as I swallowed a mouthful. Running through the badlands of utah is thirsty work.
I’ve been called a good ol’ boy throughout my life, and sometimes I like to drink whiskey and rye with my fellow good ol’ boys. I don’t know why, but whenever we do, we assume that we will die that day, and we express this feeling through song. I don’t think I’m going to drink whiskey and rye anymore.
Fun in the moment. Fun at the party. Fun when others around you are fun. Fun the day of. Miserable the day after. Miserable years after, when others around you are hurt.
Whiskey is bad. It can cause a lot of trouble but you see on tv all the time. Why is that?
i drinky whiskey feeling frisky. eat fries with friends and poop in your pants. love your whiskey omg.
My first taste of whiskey was from a bottle marked Blue Label. My brother handed me the plastic cup during our dance practice for his wedding, said it was “for courage,” to loosen us up. After that first swallow, I was a goner.
It was the wiskey that ruined my family. If my father hadn’t come home drunk, im sure wed still be together. it was never my father who spoke for himself, the whiskey always seem to take charge.
Drown, love, drown. If i fill up my head with dancing shapes and sounds, will you drown
drown
drown?
I think I’ve had whiskey at one point in my life, when I was five and my neighbor’s dad who was probably drunk at the time thought it would be funny to give us some whiskey. it tasted horrible and I spat it out.
toss back some whiskey and make thoughtless memories come alive. forget what you did. forget what happened but remember the drink that gave life to your voice when you were unable to speak consciously.
whiskey is the drink of good times and misfortune. many a family man has squandered his paycheck on a bottle of jack for himself than food for his children. that delicious vile liquid, how many people are you going to grab by the nuts? party hardy, said the commie, the whiskey is always good.
I drank whiskey straight last night.
Without a chaser.
I am not sure how I managed that.
The whiskey burned in her throat and lit a fire of confidence in her chest. She sat down her glass and crossed the room.
Like caramel it sits at the bottom of the glass, poured straight from the whiskey bottle. And like caramel time slowly moves along the sides of the glass into my mouth. The taste is bittersweet.
He put the bottle down and sauntered towards the bed. As he hauled himself onto the sheets he muttered: “What are you doing here?” just as he passed out. But the time he woke up the next morning, I had left.
haha cat i dont really like cats. i prefer dogs. whiskey.. reminds me of whiskers thats why i wrote about cats in the first place. heh. so.. speaking of dogs.. and cats.. which means rain right.. it hasn’t been raining much and the weather’s so warm. i like dogs. i just read news about how a dog saved a owner’s life because the dog bite off the owner’s infected toe, since he had diabetes but refused to visit the doctor.
she sat at the bar, attempting to keep herself steady on the worn and emaciated stool. she nodded at the man. “double whiskey on ice please” he looks shunned. turns away and fixes her drink.
a drop of whiskey will sooth the nerves, well, that was the line. The problem was the nerves seemed to need a lot of soothing.And my nerves were beginning to frey
Whiskey is the root of evil. It tore our family apart and we will never get back what we had. I am ashamed to say that I was the one who first discovered it.
Whiskey is a alcoholic drink. I dont have much to say about whiskey. men who drink whiskey have whiskers hahahaha :D
Whisky in the bottle, only a few drips left, hitting my tongue like atomic bombs, ready to explode in my subconscious, burning with the fumes of escape.
im going to whiskey you away. I don’t really drink whiskey.. although on my last trip to Ireland I got some irish coffee which has whiskey in it! Im only 17, but hey, live a little right?
A number of famous writers had whiskey problems. With American writers it was bourbon. I also have a problem with bourbon. When I have drunk too much my writing becomes fluid and free. But then I pay with an enormous headache.
i could smell it
no matter how hard
you may have tried
to hide it from me
your dirty little secret
paired with whiskey
on your breath
old and stale
just like your promises
i wont wait for you
Whiskey. Goldtransparent im achteckigen Glas. Kommt da Eis rein oder nicht? Und welche Cocktails lassen sich damit mischen? Geht das überhaupt? Oder oute ich mich mit dieser Frage mal wieder als vollkommen unexpertisch und naiv?