Girls Just Wanna Have Jack

Speaking of Jack, I had a good friend email me asking why I have done a couple different glamour tributes here on the blog but NEVER to the Jack Daniel’s girls. She has taken it upon herself to send me a small portion of her personal favorites and asks of me to please post them for her. So, I plan on doing just that, but before we begin, I want you to read my favorite part of her message to me.


“Seriously, I’ve been bartending for several years and I wanna smack the piss out of every fucking girl who has me make them a fucking amaretto sour or a damn melon ball (etc.). I actually blew an otherwise successful job because I refused to let this wack job girl order a fuzzy navel. What a waste of time and money to drink fruity concoctions, have it straight up and have Jack. I believe if you are going to drink, drink with purpose and with pride. A girl that can handle Jack straight is to be held above others. I’d be damn proud to sit down and drink with you. So here’s to you “Jack Daniels drinking chick!”, you have my respect.”


What Else Was Supposed To Do?


To begin with, I am a pretty literal kind of person, which means that I’m not the type to “read into” the meanings of the different messages I might get in a day. However, I will give you an example which could fall into fate or destiny or even both. Fate, the preordained course of your life that will occur because of or in spite of your actions. Destiny, a set of predetermined events within your life that you take an active course in shaping.

I had went into the liquor store, unsure what I was actually in the mood for. I stood at the front where I read a local advertisement about an auction that had taken place already, very disappointing to day the least. As I began wondering, I found myself standing in front of a Jack Daniels display, next thing I new I was heading to the counter to pay. I was thirsty as well, so I reached in to cooler by the check out, looking for a water, but settled for a Coke. When I got to the car I saw I had a fresh, cold water, so I drank that instead, leaving everything else in the bag.

When I got home, I was distracted by a phone call, set my bag down, and walked back outside to talk. Meanwhile, my wife unpacks the bag and set both bottles on the center island for me. When I walked in to the kitchen, I had to pause a moment, because I had just read the message on the Coke bottle. Now I ask you, how crazy is that shit? And yes, I had my fair share of Jack & Cokes by night’s end. It was just freaky enough to make me think.