I’ll pass on the candy booze, thanks.

Ok, let’s talk about these damned flavored vodkas. I’m not talking about old fashioned infusions you might find lovingly prepared at better bars, I’m talking about the artificially colored/flavored junk cluttering up the shelves at my local liquor store. It’s getting stupid out there. Many of the fruit ones taste like freakin cough syrup (I’m talking to you, Absolut!). But now we’ve got crap flavors like cake, marshmallow, and whipped cream.

Listen kids, if you don’t like how real vodka tastes, don’t drink it!

In closing: Princess; turns out the so-called pro-life nuts were wrong about Plan B; unintended side effect; unprepared; gold; he’s baaaaaack; maybe I spoke too soon about hope.

3 thoughts on “I’ll pass on the candy booze, thanks.”

  1. Mom, in what I now understand was a gesture intended to prepare her offspring for solo flight ahead of her own impending and final separation due to terminal illness, insisted that, in the pursuit of our shared interest in cooking, my pantry be well stocked with those pungent and sometime repugnant licqueurs.
    Six years later, many remain untouched.

    There is a blackberry licqueur that is good drizzled over vanilla ice cream, but as a sipping libation? [shiver]

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