Thursday, May 15, 2008


So I was trying to remember Saturday's Pub Chugga Chugga Choo Choo 5 (also known as P4C5 and The Best Train Pub Crawl Ever), because I couldn't for the life of me recall the name of the dreamy whiskey I was downing at bar number three.

Then I "racked my brain," and I couldn't decide if it was properly spelled rack or wrack and wondered if it really made that much of a difference, so I googled "racked my brain" and discovered that the first available link is a blog entry about a blog entry (Shakespearean blogs?) about the etymologies of rack and wrack. Apparently, it depends on if I'm referring to torture or ruin, respectively.

I pulled in ruin, because I tend to ruin things: surprises, marinara sauce, lives. So, I wracked my brain.

Of course, I ruined my last several batches of marinara by adding sugar, and so I sent myself a memo reminding me to never do that stupid shit again. But inevitably I will forget, and the next time I make marinara sauce I'm going to stand there in front of the stove and my Good-and-Evil Shoulders will argue over adding sugar or not, and chances are I'll fucking do it again, Evil Shoulder wins. Nothing new.

It would be fantastic if my mind operated like Photoshop, and all those blurry or darkened memories could just be sharpened or lightened by sliding up and down a mental scale. Then my marinara dilemma could be cleanly avoided and I would learn what kind of fucking whiskey I was drinking at P4C5.

And even though I forget the brand, I do remember this:

The Good-and-Evil Shoulders on whiskey:

Good: Thou shalt not drink it.
Evil: Hell yeah, whiskey.
Good: It is whiskey.
Evil: It's fucking whiskaaay-aaay.
Good: It is vile.
Evil: You love it.
Good: You'll make whiskey face in front of hot guys, like that one.
Evil: Not if you're hardcore, you fucking Sally.
Good: You'll get into a fight--
Evil: Fuckers deserve it anyway.
Good: You'll get all stumbley and slurrish.
Evil: Whatever, you're already struggling. It's not like you're driving.
Good: You will be That Girl--
Evil: Who fucking cares?
Good: Seriously, man, you'll be That Girl.
Evil: Dude, come on. Whiskey.

Obviously, Evil overcame. So anyway, googling types of whiskey was just too difficult. I wasn't fuckin around anymore, so I wikipedied that shit.


How I forgot a name like that, I'll never know.

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