I was all set to bring you a movie review today, but I'm ill-prepared, seeing as I fell asleep in the middle of The Loneliness of Long-Distance Runner (1962), based on Alan Sillitoe's short story of the same title. Doesn't bode well for the review, does it?
Yesterday was an off day, so I ... didn't do a thing. Although Martini did call me to see if I was running, alas I was headed to a bar with some co-workers to investigate a rumor of $1.50 22-ounce drafts. (True, by the way, and perhaps the culprit in the aforementioned sleepiness.)
The only materials I brought today for blogging are some mishmash random notes. Thanks to Nitmos's precedent, that's all I need.
Starring the Viper
If you haven't already, check out Xenia's epic blog series, "The Wizards of Blogland," starring your favorite drunkard on the innernets, yours truly. I have linked you to the first of five chapters, but the lovely (not verified) Xenia has created a helpful navigation bar on the right side of her blog to get you to the rest of the story. Enjoy.
There is a right way and a wrong way to talk about race issues in running. Vanilla, as odd as it may seem for me to write it, does it right. A commentator during the Los Angeles Marathon (year unknown) does it wrong ...
Moving right along ...
Solutions for Compulsive Booze Purchases
If ever you've found yourself on holiday by mistake, you have no doubt indulged in a local adult beverage that you thought would make the perfect memento if you brought home a bottle of the cocktail's main ingredient. "It'll be like we're on vacation in our own living room," you think. So you buy that bottle of Unicum, thinking that you'll be able to work the same magic as the Eastern European mixologist who served you that Bloody Hun. And if not, the kids will enjoy it.
Sometimes though, if you don't have experimental children to raid your stash, that souvenir bottle just takes up valuable space in your liquor cabinet. Then what? You know that day will come when you're hosting a party and that guy (me, if you've invited me) has drunk up all your good booze and all you have left is that lonesome, dusty bottle that has hidden in the back for so long, nay too long. You and your remaining guest will be thirsty.
In these dire circumstances, you must learn what to do. Vicky "I swear my name's not fake" Frost finds some expert advice for just such an occasion in her article "Sickly Sweet Memories," published in The Guardian on July 23. Just remember: It's simple, simple sugar.
[Drunkard's note: Thanks to Sarah, whose father apparently drinks the stuff by choice, I know that Zwack and Unicum are one and the same, which explains why I got the fear when I saw a promotion for the liqueur at a nearby bar last year.]