Had a lot of it last night, but whiskey doesn’t go to my head — it goes to my hands, feet and tongue. Makes them tickle.
Funny thing. Vodka goes straight to my head and makes my very happy. Beer makes me… sick. But whiskey — ah, sweet whiskey. You jolt my senses and make me sing.
Watching turtles race in an Irish pub off Venice boulevard was a great way to start off the holiday. It’s called Brennan’s, for those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about. Spent the night there, closed out the bar. Talked about a whole lot of things with a whole lot of people. Whiskey will do that to me. If you think I’m talkative sober… you ain’t seen me with a couple o’ shots down me gullet. Shotgun, baby.
Gonna see Terminator 3 with Rob this afternoon. If anybody’s interested, just drop on by.