I spy… a bottle of Blanton’s!
When employees are hired, they are given a stipend to spend on Etsy so they can put their own personal stamp on their work spaces at the company’s open-plan office.
on Hobart today!
the et ceterist
Photos for tomorrow’s No Bull Bourbon Review at Hobart. (at The Desk at Type Giggity)
The bourbons I drink come with stories. You could call these stories the sixth flavor, and perhaps the most important. I’ve received many bourbon recommendations, and none of these have sold me with the traditional flavor profile bullshit. If I’ve remembered a bourbon recommendation, it’s because it was coupled with an unforgettable story. So, I’m going to tell you stories. Because maybe you’re like me. Plain and simple. That’s what I’ve always loved about bourbon. It’s plain and simple—no bullshit. So in that same spirit, that’s what you can expect to find here in the coming months.
I knew I needed to call my dad. There were things in that essay I’d yet to tell him, that I’d needed to tell him for a good while.
"I’m not stupid, you know."
It was a fair enough response from a fair enough man. Of course he saw the bruises, the way I kept to my books and to myself. When I’d come to him late at night with an unquiet mind, his slack-shouldered ten-year-old boy, he’d say, “It can be difficult getting to sleep in a new house, I know.” And he’d pour me a Beam and Pepsi to help me sleep.
the et ceterist
The 2nd installment of my No Bull Bourbon Reviews just dropped on Hobart today—this one about Jim Beam and some serious shit about my childhood. This photo didn’t quite make the cut, but I was really happy with it, so here you go.
We would stay up late some nights. Some nights, he’d mix me a second drink, it was always Beam & Pepsi, and we’d sit in the living room and he’d put my step-mother’s old records on, “In a Gadda Da Vida” or Clapton’s Cream or Led Zeppelin’s The Song Remains the Same, and he’d close his eyes and make like he was strumming a guitar or he’d look at me intently like there was something I needed to pay attention to, something like a moment that would pass and if I wasn’t there fully present to notice it there’d never be another chance.
(via thesorrowsofgin)Angel Sailing In The Wind
They’re still going up. Newgent’s column is monthly, we/he just took January off cause the month was all Hobart 14 extras.
(We’re also happy to read submissions, or other weird stuff, as "misc. web stuff.")
Five years ago, I was a guy who took pills in hopes to lose weight. A year ago, I would have made a beeline for Tattered Cover. Yesterday, I walked a mile to buy a calligraphy pen.
* * *
You’re going to smell memories of freshly cut wood in your dad’s workshop. There are the standard whiffs in here — caramel and oak and vanilla — but there are also campfire ashes and your grandpa’s aftershave. You’re going to smell how much can change in 18 years.
Sip. You’re going to taste the sweetness at first, let your guard down, and then you’re gonna get tongue-punched by an oak barrel. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.