I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
Sounds like a good story, dysfunctional like, to me!
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Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug.
I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
So your parents gave you a shot of jack with a lemonade chaser?
I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
Whiskey and rock candy.
That's what pawpaw would take.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
So your parents gave you a shot of jack with a lemonade chaser?
I wish. No, they'd heat up the glass of lemonade and pour the JD into it.
I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
I was raised the same way. Any wonder why I drink? Lol!
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America guarantees equal opportunity, not equal outcome...
You know, I wonder if i can still find some moonshine around these parts?
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
You know, I wonder if i can still find some moonshine around these parts?
Oh, you can get it here. Apple pie is a favorite. You have to drive by the three legged dog and the banjo player to buy it though. You can buy it by the gallon (in an actual plastic milk carton), or by the pint in a mason jar. And the guy that sells it hasn't washed his fingernails since 1983.
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America guarantees equal opportunity, not equal outcome...
You know, I wonder if i can still find some moonshine around these parts?
Oh, you can get it here. Apple pie is a favorite. You have to drive by the three legged dog and the banjo player to buy it though. You can buy it by the gallon (in an actual plastic milk carton), or by the pint in a mason jar. And the guy that sells it hasn't washed his fingernails since 1983.
Well, the grain alcohol kills all the bacteria underneath those nails,so no worries.
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Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug.
I was raised on JD. My parents used to give it to me when I had a cold. A shot in warm lemonade. I hated it, and used to ask to drink each one separately.
So your parents gave you a shot of jack with a lemonade chaser?
I wish. No, they'd heat up the glass of lemonade and pour the JD into it.
Oh my gosh.
The cold/sore throat remedy was...
Bourdon, lemon juice, onions, and honey.
Cook up the onion first, fish out the onion, and save the juice.
Add the honey, lemon juice and bourbon, and simmer for a couple of minutes.
If that stuff is distilled right, it's the best stuff ever.
If not, then you know why it's called white lightning.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
Should I feel "neglected" because my parents didn't give me booze as a child?
flan
Why would you?
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
There's alcohol in cold medicines. At least there was in adult medicines, and growing up, I don't think they made "children's" medicines. Dad just made his own. It tasted horrible, too, but I slept well.
An aside, my parents gave us alcohol as kids, a sip of their beer or champagne at a celebration. And there was liquor in the house, not locked up, just on the shelf. Honestly, I think that was good. They never made alcohol some rare forbidden fruit. So I was never tempted by it as a form of rebellion. It was no big deal.
An aside, my parents gave us alcohol as kids, a sip of their beer or champagne at a celebration. And there was liquor in the house, not locked up, just on the shelf. Honestly, I think that was good. They never made alcohol some rare forbidden fruit. So I was never tempted by it as a form of rebellion. It was no big deal.
Sounds like how we grew up, too. By 13 or 14, I was given my own glass of wine at holiday family meals, too.
I really didn't take it as a jab, but if it was meh. I don't see anything wrong with letting children taste alcohol. Even our church recommended we have the boys drink wine (at home) before their First Communion so it wouldn't be such a shock.
An aside, my parents gave us alcohol as kids, a sip of their beer or champagne at a celebration. And there was liquor in the house, not locked up, just on the shelf. Honestly, I think that was good. They never made alcohol some rare forbidden fruit. So I was never tempted by it as a form of rebellion. It was no big deal.
Sounds like how we grew up, too. By 13 or 14, I was given my own glass of wine at holiday family meals, too.
I really didn't take it as a jab, but if it was meh. I don't see anything wrong with letting children taste alcohol. Even our church recommended we have the boys drink wine (at home) before their First Communion so it wouldn't be such a shock.
It wasn't a jab. I just found it interesting, since that wasn't the way I grew up.
I don't think I ever saw Mom drink & Dad...maybe an occasional beer?
We did have alcohol in the house. My parents didn't drink.
But my grandparents and great grandparents did.
I was around 12 when I got the wrong glass of daiquiri at a family gathering.
It was yummy.
There wasn't a fuss made.
I picked up my mawmaw's instead of mine. They were right there together.
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A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.
My mother is a lightweight. She's so much a lightweight, she feels drunk even if she hasn't had a drink. An example....at a family party, she was sitting with a glass of something...bourbon or something. The glass was on the table untouched, and she was chatting with my aunt. When wasn't looking, I said to my cousin, "watch this"...then I drank it and put the glass back. A minute or two later my mom reached for the glass, saw that it was empty, and said, "oh my, I think this drink has gone to my head!"
A flock of flirting flamingos is pure, passionate, pink pandemonium-a frenetic flamingle-mangle-a discordant discotheque of delirious dancing, flamboyant feathers, and flamingo lingo.