When he briefly fretted that consorting with 'White' Russians was somewhat unsound, disloyal to the Communist affiliations of his youth (one of the elements in the coining of his nickname), I consoled him that we were putting them down.
On the plus side, I treat them with greater respect than most drinks (largely because I can sense the inches being added to my waistline with every sip), and consume them fairly slowly. On the minus side, they are fattening and expensive and fattening...... I will try to limit them to being a holiday indulgence. Damn, they do slip down easy, though. And produce a nicely floaty feeling by the end of the evening....
"Careful of the beverage, man..."
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They are also unbelievably, phenomenally, unspeakably, irrevocably, intolerably GIRLIE.
So what? If I want to touch up my feminine side this Christmas, let me be....
And I don't think you'd ever accuse Jeff Lebowski of being a girl.
I gave up drinking anything with cream in it after one night working in the Jazz Cellar, when we all went out for breakfast up by the Cowley Car Plant, and agreed to come back the next morning to clean the bar. The cream drinks left over had separated out over night, and I could not help thinking they would do that in my stomach...
One of my female flatmates overindulged heavily on the Bailey's once, after a break-up. The vomit was not pretty. Well, not that it ever is, of course, but you know what I mean. The thick, smooth texture that seems so appealing in the drink is quite disgusting when encountered again in this different context. It put me off creamy drinks for quite a while.
I think I was reconverted by The Younger Dr P - who has in recent years been reborn as a cocktail aficionado, and whose kitchen is now better stocked than any bar I've ever seen. A couple of years ago he mixed me an absolutely awesome Brandy Alexander, and I was smitten.
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