sometimes there aren’t words that are good enough. there is no elaborate strand of prose adequately exact and no description of feeling appropriately grand or remotely accurate. whitney, you touched my life in a manner beyond words and all i know is that i love you and miss you, every day, beautiful soulmate...
if the saying is true that aspiring authors should “write what you know”, then i’ve been bullshitting you poor people for quite some time. if i know anything at all it’s not about kittens, fashion blunders, or relationships; it’s about vodka.
having tried absolutely (pun intended?) every type of liquor, malt beverage, wine, champagne, and every combination thereof, i can honestly attest to the fact that there is no better friend than the fermented potato. the list of grievances concerning other intoxicants is extensive: rum is too sweet, gin makes me hate christmas/myself, whiskey adds a level of vulgarity to my already rowdy self that everyone (myself included) finds unacceptable, grain alcohol is only reserved for the the everclear hot tub experiment (which has yet to transpire... mythbusters?), and tequila usually leads to projectile vomiting (ideal). this, my friends, is where vodka outshines the competition. you can mix it with anything, if you spill it on yourself it dries clear, it enhances yet doesn’t overpower my natural bitchiness, and it comes in a large variety of flavors. having stated my intentions of persuading you, the reader, that vodka is superior to all other alcohols, i will now set forth a jumbled list of things to consider before ultimately conceding to my will and admitting that vodka reins as the king all of liquor. when discussing the supremacy of russia’s “little water”, one must be mindful of price, flavor and overall wiener factor.
although some may argue that only expensive vodka is worth drinking, i would like to remind you that i have yet to meet someone rich enough to marry, in some cases quantity is better than quality, and that all individuals, including papa bear, have a cap on weekly alcohol budgets. that being said, i will not drink any vodka that comes in a plastic bottle, unless of course i am very inebriated or very, very desperate. this is what one might call “standards”; i don’t have many, but this is a non-negotiable (much like safety). is grey goose better than svedka? yes. is kettle one superior to smirnoff? definitely. would i turn down either of the lesser quality vodkas or either of the expensive brands? do you know me at all? you see, i don’t care if you filtered my vodka through charcoal 500 times, i don’t care that some russian dude in an igloo with a furry hood said it’s the best, and i don’t care that your vodka is sponsored by p diddy/diddy/diddy dirty money. if it’s 13.99, in glass, and doesn’t taste like rubbing alcohol, i’ll drink it (love you, svedka).
transition to the flavor component. ideally, vodka should taste like nothing. in rare cases this actually happens. in most cases, put on your big girl panties, it’s alcohol, it’s going to burn. while nothing can make this girl happier than vodka + water + lime, flavored varieties certainly have their place. for example, fancy the orange creamsicle of childhood? vanilla vodka + orange soda. magic. need to add a zing to a drink which can technically count as a meal/is the thing of hangover legends? pepper vodka + bloody mary mix. cured. better yet, bacon vodka. obese. need a drink which makes you feel like a lady who lunches rather than the blatant alcoholic you really are? peach vodka + champagne + mango puree. bellini bliss. you welcome.
which ultimately leads me to my final point, the wiener factor. you have a wiener/think you’re too big of a badass to drink vodka. vodka is for girls. you’re scared of paper umbrellas in drinks. you only drink beer. you only drink whiskey. news, freaking, flash. you have to drink a bottle of beer in order to have consumed the same as a single shot of vodka. you are wasting valuable stomach space. both vodka and whiskey, on average, are 80 proof, meaning 40% alcohol. you’re going to mix that whiskey with coca cola, i’m going to mix my vodka with water. you’re a fatty (i know, i know, i’m not one to talk. i’m only this squishy because they say you can’t trust a skinny chef, politics) and to add insult to injury, your hangover will be worse than mine because unlike my fabulously clear drink of choice yours contains tannins and acetone which make you feel like shit and significantly decreases your next day cognition. who’s the wiener now?
learn to hydrate and intoxicate simultaneously, hobos.
if this drunk baby doesn't make you laugh, then i don't know what will.
