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It's November. The last of the leaves are falling from their branches, the squirrels are dropping some of their take, and the local drunks are moving inside, leaving their discarded bottles behind. Wasting no time, Ronnie R captured this tableau on the first day of the month – a perfect submission for the sadly now infrequently updated Treebox Vodka. (EXIF)
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Ah, Velicoffs: the I Don't Feel Like Thinking Man's Vodka. Not as LNS douchey as Grey Goose, but not all bad if you pour it through a Brita a couple times. And there's nothing quite as satisfying as hucking the empties at squirrels.
Or hobos.
And yes, Brita works!
The true vodka congnoscenti will distain from hurling his "dead soldier" at wayward "sons of the road," preferring the tried-and-true technique of strangulation by silk ascot tie. With enough practice, your monocle will remain firmly affixed to your eye socket and the amount of vagrant drool on your spats is negligible. To the hobo jungles, post haste!
Dang! I knew I left that somewhere.
Get back on the wagon, Liz. It works if you work it.
But I want what I want when I want it!
Every member of your highschool football team knows that!
Correction: Every CURRENT player on her high school football team knows that.