We went to a "couples shower" for Tony and Sarah in Birmingham, Alabammy this weekend. The six-hour drive was made tolerable with a well-chosen audiobook. (I have no idea why this novel has gotten such hateful reviews; I like what I heard on the trip -- of course, there are still five CDs to go, so maybe it all falls apart at the end).
Birmingham seems like a decent enough town. The shower was held in the residence of the parents of Sarah's sister's best friend (??) in one of those hoity-toity gated subdivisions. Nice people, but it has to be said: Money can't buy taste. Still, I'm glad I didn't wear my "PRML SCRM MTHR FCKR" shirt that day.
After the shower, a mess of us went to a bar called the Garage, which was pretty nice, except the screwdriver I ordered tasted like ass, so I switched to Woodchuck. Then we went to the house where we were staying. I should've made Tony stop at a liquor store on the way over, because all they had to drink was Jack Daniel's but nothing to mix. JD No. 7 is fine as an ingredient, but on its own? Once you've had Buffalo Trace or Maker's Mark, well, that Tennessee shit loses much of its appeal. I don't know how Lemmy can stand it.