I'm all about getting cultured. Trying things to expand my pallet and my mind in hopes of becoming a more civilized gentleman or whatever. Scotch seemed like one of those things that would help me shoot into the stratosphere of classy stuff to try. I decided that it was my time to distance myself from crappy canned bear and the occasional White Russian, to something more mature. I inlisted the help of the a middle aged lady behind the cash register of a tiny liquor store to help me decide just how to introduce myself to this beverage. She said something along the lines of "Well, ummm" I waited for her to continue. "You get what you pay for with that stuff". Genius. I took her advice into consideration while browsing, but threw it out once I caught a glimpse of the prices. So I settled on the single cheapest bottle of scotch in hopes of appearing more prestigious than I actually am.
From there I poured a glass and threw in some stones (rich people talk for ice) and gave it a sip. Terrible. It looked like gasoline, smelled like sharpie, and tasted like whiskey filled mosquito bites. But it's not about flavor, its about class and pedigree!
Here's the footage, straight from the horse's mouth!
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