If I’m going to drink, I want to drink single malt whiskey, and if I get to pick, I want it to be Irish, and if I really, really get to pick, I want it to be Jameson.
In fact, as I’m typing this I’m sipping it out of a flask. That’s right, a flask. Straight up. I have a mother of a headache and a neck thing that ice, two Vicodin, a neckrub, Blue Stop, and sobbing didn’t fix. Now I feel fine. Verrry, verrrry fine.
Normally I just drink Jameson for pleasure, however. Yes, it’s sharp and has a bite. That’s why it’s good. And if you mix it with Bailey’s or a cheap knockoff of Bailey’s, you have a Dirty Whiskey, which is what good Jameson is when it goes to heaven.
Jameson Whiskey. If you see me with a flask in my hand at a conference, that’s what’s in it. Makes the world look right-side up again in almost any situation. Except behind the wheel of a car. But really, wouldn’t you rather be riding than driving? Thought so.