April 29th, 2008
Tragedy has struck. That’s right tragedy: we’re out of booze.
No, I mean it. There’s none. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Not a drop to drink.
Now, ordinarily this would call for an immediate dash to the drive-through liquor store but after ranting about people who don’t plan ahead and therefore use extra gas, I decided we ought to tough this one out. (Not that I think the clerk at the liquor store actually reads blogs… much less reads period). I just don’t want to feel like a hypocrite.
So tonight I’m sticking with TaB soda in a beer mug.
What’s in your glass?
March 11th, 2008
If you ask me, that’s how the Biblical creation story really ought to go. I am, as I’ve mentioned before, addicted to TaB soda. Back when we lived in Hawaii, I had to have TaB shipped to me and made everyone who visited bring it with them.
VH secretly suspects that the reason I insisted on moving back to Kansas was so I could have an unfettered supply of the stuff, and he’s not entirely wrong. Unfortunately, thanks to a bonehead taking over the Commissary at Ft. Leavenworth, my supply ran out.
Today, my friend Kim sent me TaB. Four 12-packs of it, as a matter of fact. That’s forty-eight little pink cans full of heaven, all (but one) of them now safely locked away in my desk.
I’m so happy I could pee.