A Crappy Post On A Dead Man's Chest. Yo Ho Ho And A Bottle Of Rum

This is one of those nights where I’m stuck looking for something to write about. I didn’t do anything today; laundry and dishes don’t count. I got out of the house for a grand total of five minutes to walk down the block and see the Happy Birthday Jesus lights. I really hate days like this, but there wasn’t anything to do today and no reason to go outside other than to spend money, which I’m trying to keep to a minimum. The main problem is that I’m out of booze. I’ve got a shot of cheap rum left that shouldn’t be cheap. Cruzan keeps the good stuff down in the islands and sends the crap here. Other people have noticed the difference. It’s not that we bought a lower grade of the stuff. It’s like Molson having a different recipe for the beer they send to the US and the beer they keep in Canada, but at least they’re up front about it. They say, “Eh, you hosers won’t allow the good 7% stuff so we send you some watered down 4% stuff and you’re still complaining, eh? Take off.” My sister sent me a bottle of top notch rum a few years ago called Pyrat. It came in a fancy case that I’m now using as a glorified picture frame. It was way too good to mix, so I started sipping it. I ran through that bottle in just under three years. MJ is worried that I’m an alcoholic. The downside of acquiring a taste for good rum is that not only do I know the difference between good and bad now, but I can’t drink the cheap stuff anymore. No one goes back to Winn-Dixie Up ‘n Atum coffee after they’ve had Starbucks. The Pyrat is around $30 a bottle and I’m stuck. I don’t want to drop the cash on something I may drink twice a year, especially when money is tight, but I like having it around. MJ wants an iPhone; I want a bottle of Rum.