whiskey sours are perhaps my favorite drink. They’re not “girly” or whatever that’s supposed to mean. They’re bitter and pleasing and good to drink with friends. I don’t drink alone. Not anymore.
i think of pirates when i see this word because they always drink whiskey???? I have no idea…. I also think of them drunk…drunken sailor….then i think of whiskers like a beard.. now i am given more time because I failed to type my name so ill just wait to make it fair…
Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey… the safe word is whiskey. WHISKEY! A dog named Whiskey, an alcoholic beverage. Whhhiskey. I wish I were brave. Remember not to drive.
The drink of a secretive man. He drinks it slow, swirling it around with two cubes of ice. He sits on a stool in a dark, classy bar. People around him chat and laugh, he stares passed them. He sees no crowds, only you. Go to him.
I love Jack Daniels. Once, a friend of mine got really wasted on Jack Daniels and asked random people at his party if they wanted to take a shot of Jack, or the way he put it, “Jack off.” It’s probably his favorite alcoholic beverage. Also, there’s a book I’m reading right now about a women who married a much older man, and he probably drinks whiskey.
delicious drink
illigal when drunk underage
brownish gold in color
burning smell
burns throat going down
not to be kept in cheek
drink when cold or warm doesnt matter
fun to drink in drinking games
listed as a songs name i.e whiskey lullaby
can be used as a name
store in warm and cold temperatures keep out of sun
I have spent many a day with a bottle of whiskey that was laying on it’s side empty and I was drowning in my own sorrow and confusion. The sickness was always so intense and the next day was a daydream of images of what could have been or would have been or should have been. I can still taste the bitter bile taste of that beautiful brown liquid coming back up.
whiskey makes me think of whiskey sours. which is what my grandpa used to drink. i don’t know if whiskey is canadian club, or if they’re different. i think they’re the same. my parents have never been into mixed drinks, but my grandparents are. and a lot of my aunts and uncles are either alcoholics or recovering. i’ve always been fascinated by how grown-up and sophisticated mixed drinks seem to be.
Dry on ice
Hair on chesty coffee splatter
Lighting the lamp of dormant desire
Privvy to an audience of one
Momentary
Temporary
An empty collusion
All steam, not enough fuel
Left unfulfilled
Whiskey with tea is wonderful. What a strange combination. Hot tea and whiskey and cards and friends. Whiskey also is a good pet name. A spunky toxic name. Whiskey!
“I’m a little drunk.”
She smiled
“You’ve had one drink!”
“I haven’t eaten anything all day!”
“Well, let me take you to the dinner across the street.”
And they ate and drank and made love.
And got to know themselves and each other.
at formal i drank whiskey gingers because my date was drinking whiskey gingers even though i don’t really like them. i think i may have gotten two of them and pretended to drink them but really i just put them on a random table and walked away in an attempt to get another drink. one time maddye and i bought rv jack daniels for his birthday and took a shot of it with him. then i told scott that i should be able to play beer pong because i gave him a blow job the week before.
Willie Nelson has such a distinctive voice. When he sings, I want to lay my body against the man I love and kiss him. I want us to feel that deep connection that lovers feel.
Stress recoils in my tense mind, craving for relaxation, and a good careless time. Pour it straight, give me five shots, and we’ll dance the night away not caring what daylight brings. Admiring the warm sensation running down my throat on a cold winters night.
Man, I just love me some whiskey [best word of the day]!
Jack Daniels! :) <3
the whiskey was cheap, but it would do the trick. people often underestimate the capabilities of cheap whiskey, but it does the trick, even if it’s reminicent of urine on the way down.
Storm and thunder and wind and crash-whoosh-bang. Smoke rises in the distance; sand whips up from the earth and blows furiously towards the empty shell of a house with nothing left inside but a few shards of glass bottles.
Oh, she had– a lack of memories about whiskey. Well, that’s not quite accurate. It was more like– She knew she had had dealings with it, but she just couldn’t remember them.
She regretted a lot over her lifetime.
None more so than never moving on him.
She thought about him more than she thought about her work, for fuck’s sake.
She’s never drunken whiskey before. She remembers her grandfather used to drink it, and he smelled like cigars. She smoked cigars sometimes, when she was feeling classy. She looked at the offered glass, looked up into his warm brown eyes, and opted not to take it.
His voice was whiskey gruff and warm, mellow like his mood. He’d been a drinker for years. His daddy had started him on it early. A drink a5 15, and a lesson in how to make the liquor a year later . When you’re daddy’s an brewer it’s hard to do much else with your life.
Whiskey is a beverage. Its awesome. Whiskey in the jar is a traditional Irish Folk Song. Thin Lizzy did a cool cover. I think the Irish Rovers did too. And Alabama Whiskey bar is a song by the doors. I like Red Label and Jack Daniels. Canadian Club is cool too.
whiskey<whiskers. whiskers are so much cooler than whiskey. i can spend my time pretending to be a cat whether i'm drunk or sober. that is what life is about. letting the bad stuff roll off you and enjoying the little things, the little moments, the people who make big impacts in your life because it is so short. whiskers for life.
The whiskey glass was completely empty before his friend even finished the first sentence. Amber-colored droplets littered his mustache as he suppressed a hearty belch. The young boy kept yapping away, nonetheless, not at all put off by the man’s blatant attempt to ignore him. Growling under his breath, he motioned for the barkeep to pour him another glass. A stronger one.
“- and that’s why we’re in need of your assistance, sir. There’s no other way Cecilia and I can do this.” The boy finished, looking with wide earnest eyes to Gerald’s direction. A full minute passed, but the boy didn’t look away.
Gerald tipped his head back, allowing the burning liquid to run down his throat, and hoped it would addle his senses enough for this encounter to not be as such a pain in the neck as it was then. Too bad it still was. “Boy.” Came his gruff voice, still refusing to meet the boy’s gaze, “Do you even have the slightest fathom in your pea-brained head what you’d be gettin’ yerself into if you call on the help from *me*?”
“Yessir.” The boy nodded vigorously, “I know what it takes to be granted the favors of a djinni, sir, and Cecilia and I-”
“-are willin’ ta take the risks?” Gerald finished.
“Yessir, we are.”
At once, Gerald could feel it in his bones. The pull of his curse coming back to life, the inevitability too grant the wish and favor of all those who ask it. But he didn’t want to take it. Not this job. Not for this boy. Doing so, he already knew, would turn into nothing but regret and disaster.
Wishes made in the name of ‘love’ were always the worst in that way.
“So, will you do it for us? Please, sir. We’ve no other option to take.”
“There’s always another option, son.” He retorted, pulling the rim of his rawhide hat down over his bloodshot eyes. Slowly, the drunkard turned to face the young man, using the rim to block his gaze from the boy’s eyes. There was an oddity to be had in this ankle biting kid; most people that found him delivered orders and demands out of Gerald. This one, on the other hand, actually had the guts to ask. But while that had never happened before, the results would still remain the same, “There’s always other things ta do ‘fore gettin’ so desp’rate as ta be askin’ someone like me. Yer goin’ ta lose all else ya care about. And if ya don’ die, yer gonna wish ya did by the end of it.”
“I don’t care!” The boy declared, rising to his feet. Of course he didn’t care. None of them did. “For her… For her, I have to at least try, sir!! Please, do this for us – for Cecilia!”
The whiskey glass clanged heavily onto the table. “Ya want it done that badly?” He didn’t even wait for the boy’s answer this time, “Then it’ll be done.”
“Thank you so much, si-!”
“Take me there.”
This made the boy pause. Finally. “Wait… what?”
“Take me to yer town. Where the girl is.”
“But…. Can’t you just snap your fingers and be done with it?”
“Yeah, well, this time I wanna do it in person. See the r’sults for myself. Gotta problem wit’ that, boy?”
“N-no sir. Of course not.”
“Then lead the bloody way.” Proclaimed the djinni, staggering to his feet. He almost smirked at seeing the boy’s flustered expression. Didn’t think he’d have to have the djinni ride with him back across the desert, did he? Well, hopefully the ride back will get the boy to second-guess what he was asking.
Just so long as they take their time in getting there. So long as he didn’t outright demand his wish to be granted…
…. Then he still might have a chance at happiness…..
The glass clunked back onto the counter, the gnarled fingers clutching it as though the solid object could squirm away at any time. The owner of the hand turned his grizzled face to the empty seat on his left, quietly eying the ghostly ring of condensation left behind on the ancient board.
Happy Friday is party night. Get drunk once in your life-just to know what it’s like-then stay clean for as long as you live after that.
-A word from the wise (otherwise you’ll always wonder what it’s like…)
I woke up this morning and felt the need to brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack Daniels. As it turns out, that was a very bad idea because now I’m drunk and my breath smells. Fortunately, my first period teacher also smelled like Jack so I didn’t get written up for being underaged and drunk in school. Hell yea!
The first time I drank whiskey, I mixed it with chocolate milk. The two went very well together. It was delicious. I drank so much I blacked out. But it was chocolate milk, I drank and drank. That night, I was raped. I’ll never touch whiskey again.
Oh the devil be my mind, those night when I’ve drunk the sweetest liquid in town. And it ain’t my tongue that keeps you down- the daemon itself spins my mind around.
I remember drinking Maker’s Mark the first time. It felt so warm. The next time I drank was with you–that vodka that was flavored like whipped cream. I miss you. I miss weed and alcohol burning my insides into warmth. I miss you.
Humans get dumber
As shown by Oneword topics-
Low-brow term whiskey
whiskey sours are perhaps my favorite drink. They’re not “girly” or whatever that’s supposed to mean. They’re bitter and pleasing and good to drink with friends. I don’t drink alone. Not anymore.
i think of pirates when i see this word because they always drink whiskey???? I have no idea…. I also think of them drunk…drunken sailor….then i think of whiskers like a beard.. now i am given more time because I failed to type my name so ill just wait to make it fair…
Rain makes corn, corn makes whiskey… the safe word is whiskey. WHISKEY! A dog named Whiskey, an alcoholic beverage. Whhhiskey. I wish I were brave. Remember not to drive.
The drink of a secretive man. He drinks it slow, swirling it around with two cubes of ice. He sits on a stool in a dark, classy bar. People around him chat and laugh, he stares passed them. He sees no crowds, only you. Go to him.
a hot summer night and a thousand of worries to dwell on. a clear night sky; stars flirting a dark dance floor.
he’s drunk. she hates the smell. she’s going to kill him. rip his throat out. right. fucking. out. he smiles sloppily and he’s
going
to
die.
I need whiskey in my system before I can tolerate you in my house.
I love Jack Daniels. Once, a friend of mine got really wasted on Jack Daniels and asked random people at his party if they wanted to take a shot of Jack, or the way he put it, “Jack off.” It’s probably his favorite alcoholic beverage. Also, there’s a book I’m reading right now about a women who married a much older man, and he probably drinks whiskey.
delicious drink
illigal when drunk underage
brownish gold in color
burning smell
burns throat going down
not to be kept in cheek
drink when cold or warm doesnt matter
fun to drink in drinking games
listed as a songs name i.e whiskey lullaby
can be used as a name
store in warm and cold temperatures keep out of sun
drunk
sex
kissing
fun
dancing
karoke
music
dreads
pot
trampoline
swimming
love
lots of love
boyfriend
girlfriend
heels
love
ass
cowboys
cabins
boat
I have spent many a day with a bottle of whiskey that was laying on it’s side empty and I was drowning in my own sorrow and confusion. The sickness was always so intense and the next day was a daydream of images of what could have been or would have been or should have been. I can still taste the bitter bile taste of that beautiful brown liquid coming back up.
whiskey makes me think of whiskey sours. which is what my grandpa used to drink. i don’t know if whiskey is canadian club, or if they’re different. i think they’re the same. my parents have never been into mixed drinks, but my grandparents are. and a lot of my aunts and uncles are either alcoholics or recovering. i’ve always been fascinated by how grown-up and sophisticated mixed drinks seem to be.
Dry on ice
Hair on chesty coffee splatter
Lighting the lamp of dormant desire
Privvy to an audience of one
Momentary
Temporary
An empty collusion
All steam, not enough fuel
Left unfulfilled
Whiskey with tea is wonderful. What a strange combination. Hot tea and whiskey and cards and friends. Whiskey also is a good pet name. A spunky toxic name. Whiskey!
“I’m a little drunk.”
She smiled
“You’ve had one drink!”
“I haven’t eaten anything all day!”
“Well, let me take you to the dinner across the street.”
And they ate and drank and made love.
And got to know themselves and each other.
at formal i drank whiskey gingers because my date was drinking whiskey gingers even though i don’t really like them. i think i may have gotten two of them and pretended to drink them but really i just put them on a random table and walked away in an attempt to get another drink. one time maddye and i bought rv jack daniels for his birthday and took a shot of it with him. then i told scott that i should be able to play beer pong because i gave him a blow job the week before.
Whiskey and rye. Rum. Drinking. Parties. Cast parties. Plays. Productions. Managers. Seniors, stage crew, cast. Love. Home. Family. Large. Elephantine. Dictionary. SAT. ACT. School. College. Drinking. Whiskey.
Willie Nelson has such a distinctive voice. When he sings, I want to lay my body against the man I love and kiss him. I want us to feel that deep connection that lovers feel.
Stress recoils in my tense mind, craving for relaxation, and a good careless time. Pour it straight, give me five shots, and we’ll dance the night away not caring what daylight brings. Admiring the warm sensation running down my throat on a cold winters night.
Man, I just love me some whiskey [best word of the day]!
Jack Daniels! :) <3
Whiskey. Vodka. Beer. Wine. Shots. Coolers. Margaritas. Pina Coladas. Screwdrivers. Sangria. ALCOHOL.
Get out of my life.
the whiskey was cheap, but it would do the trick. people often underestimate the capabilities of cheap whiskey, but it does the trick, even if it’s reminicent of urine on the way down.
Storm and thunder and wind and crash-whoosh-bang. Smoke rises in the distance; sand whips up from the earth and blows furiously towards the empty shell of a house with nothing left inside but a few shards of glass bottles.
Whiskey–
Oh, she had– a lack of memories about whiskey. Well, that’s not quite accurate. It was more like– She knew she had had dealings with it, but she just couldn’t remember them.
She regretted a lot over her lifetime.
None more so than never moving on him.
She thought about him more than she thought about her work, for fuck’s sake.
She’s never drunken whiskey before. She remembers her grandfather used to drink it, and he smelled like cigars. She smoked cigars sometimes, when she was feeling classy. She looked at the offered glass, looked up into his warm brown eyes, and opted not to take it.
His voice was whiskey gruff and warm, mellow like his mood. He’d been a drinker for years. His daddy had started him on it early. A drink a5 15, and a lesson in how to make the liquor a year later . When you’re daddy’s an brewer it’s hard to do much else with your life.
Whiskey is a beverage. Its awesome. Whiskey in the jar is a traditional Irish Folk Song. Thin Lizzy did a cool cover. I think the Irish Rovers did too. And Alabama Whiskey bar is a song by the doors. I like Red Label and Jack Daniels. Canadian Club is cool too.
whiskey<whiskers. whiskers are so much cooler than whiskey. i can spend my time pretending to be a cat whether i'm drunk or sober. that is what life is about. letting the bad stuff roll off you and enjoying the little things, the little moments, the people who make big impacts in your life because it is so short. whiskers for life.
The whiskey glass was completely empty before his friend even finished the first sentence. Amber-colored droplets littered his mustache as he suppressed a hearty belch. The young boy kept yapping away, nonetheless, not at all put off by the man’s blatant attempt to ignore him. Growling under his breath, he motioned for the barkeep to pour him another glass. A stronger one.
“- and that’s why we’re in need of your assistance, sir. There’s no other way Cecilia and I can do this.” The boy finished, looking with wide earnest eyes to Gerald’s direction. A full minute passed, but the boy didn’t look away.
Gerald tipped his head back, allowing the burning liquid to run down his throat, and hoped it would addle his senses enough for this encounter to not be as such a pain in the neck as it was then. Too bad it still was. “Boy.” Came his gruff voice, still refusing to meet the boy’s gaze, “Do you even have the slightest fathom in your pea-brained head what you’d be gettin’ yerself into if you call on the help from *me*?”
“Yessir.” The boy nodded vigorously, “I know what it takes to be granted the favors of a djinni, sir, and Cecilia and I-”
“-are willin’ ta take the risks?” Gerald finished.
“Yessir, we are.”
At once, Gerald could feel it in his bones. The pull of his curse coming back to life, the inevitability too grant the wish and favor of all those who ask it. But he didn’t want to take it. Not this job. Not for this boy. Doing so, he already knew, would turn into nothing but regret and disaster.
Wishes made in the name of ‘love’ were always the worst in that way.
“So, will you do it for us? Please, sir. We’ve no other option to take.”
“There’s always another option, son.” He retorted, pulling the rim of his rawhide hat down over his bloodshot eyes. Slowly, the drunkard turned to face the young man, using the rim to block his gaze from the boy’s eyes. There was an oddity to be had in this ankle biting kid; most people that found him delivered orders and demands out of Gerald. This one, on the other hand, actually had the guts to ask. But while that had never happened before, the results would still remain the same, “There’s always other things ta do ‘fore gettin’ so desp’rate as ta be askin’ someone like me. Yer goin’ ta lose all else ya care about. And if ya don’ die, yer gonna wish ya did by the end of it.”
“I don’t care!” The boy declared, rising to his feet. Of course he didn’t care. None of them did. “For her… For her, I have to at least try, sir!! Please, do this for us – for Cecilia!”
The whiskey glass clanged heavily onto the table. “Ya want it done that badly?” He didn’t even wait for the boy’s answer this time, “Then it’ll be done.”
“Thank you so much, si-!”
“Take me there.”
This made the boy pause. Finally. “Wait… what?”
“Take me to yer town. Where the girl is.”
“But…. Can’t you just snap your fingers and be done with it?”
“Yeah, well, this time I wanna do it in person. See the r’sults for myself. Gotta problem wit’ that, boy?”
“N-no sir. Of course not.”
“Then lead the bloody way.” Proclaimed the djinni, staggering to his feet. He almost smirked at seeing the boy’s flustered expression. Didn’t think he’d have to have the djinni ride with him back across the desert, did he? Well, hopefully the ride back will get the boy to second-guess what he was asking.
Just so long as they take their time in getting there. So long as he didn’t outright demand his wish to be granted…
…. Then he still might have a chance at happiness…..
…….. Otherwise…..
The glass clunked back onto the counter, the gnarled fingers clutching it as though the solid object could squirm away at any time. The owner of the hand turned his grizzled face to the empty seat on his left, quietly eying the ghostly ring of condensation left behind on the ancient board.
i would really like some. right. about. NOW.
Happy Friday is party night. Get drunk once in your life-just to know what it’s like-then stay clean for as long as you live after that.
-A word from the wise (otherwise you’ll always wonder what it’s like…)
I woke up this morning and felt the need to brush my teeth with a bottle of Jack Daniels. As it turns out, that was a very bad idea because now I’m drunk and my breath smells. Fortunately, my first period teacher also smelled like Jack so I didn’t get written up for being underaged and drunk in school. Hell yea!
The first time I drank whiskey, I mixed it with chocolate milk. The two went very well together. It was delicious. I drank so much I blacked out. But it was chocolate milk, I drank and drank. That night, I was raped. I’ll never touch whiskey again.
Is turning to alcohol cowardly?
yummy stuff for my mouth, feels warm going down yet thicker coming back up. must be that food i ate. tacos.
Just tried a big spoonful of it from a mason jar, warm spicy all down my throat, and still tingling there.
Reasons not to drink whiskey:
On a dare.
On a “bad day.”
After a break-up or fight.
…!
Oh the devil be my mind, those night when I’ve drunk the sweetest liquid in town. And it ain’t my tongue that keeps you down- the daemon itself spins my mind around.
I remember drinking Maker’s Mark the first time. It felt so warm. The next time I drank was with you–that vodka that was flavored like whipped cream. I miss you. I miss weed and alcohol burning my insides into warmth. I miss you.