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Ah yes... I have found a new place to lament. I suppose this is much healthier than doing such with ex girlfriends via text circa two after bouncing from some watering hole following a myriad of jager and rumple shots, so cheers to that.

As I cheers to you, I sip this cheap scotch that Cameron, the manager of the Twin Liquors so very much with in walking distance of my apartment, was nice enough to actually give me for free about a week ago. I have found that questioning the quality of ones product, often leads to some sort of trial of the aforementioned piece of merchandise. (Sams caught on to this real early on, and also found a place to stick the people joining their staff via the nursing home exchange program)

How is the scotch?

It kind of tastes like milk. I didn't even know that was possible.

I encountered something remarkable last night whilst waiting tables. I went to deliver a fresh glass of some Super Tuscan to a patron sitting on this restaurants patio, and as I bent down I caught a whiff of her (female obviously--- and drinking something bold like a Super Tuscan...top drawer coug, top drawer) perfume. Now, I have heard before that above any other sense, scent is more in cahoots with your memory than any other, and last night whatever doubts I may have had to that statement had I actually took the time to dream up a rebuttal, were laid to rest.

This lady was wearing the same perfume that my X-Fiance wore when we first started dating... the whole thing is though, the last time I probably had that smell run through my olfactory cavities was in the summer of 2004. I put the glass down, and stepped slightly back behind her, and let myself get another breath or two of it. This relationship was something that took me a very long time to get over, but there have been others to get over since her---so pining over this ex, or being emotional about her has been a non-event for quite some time; but this smell...

I was whisked away to our first kiss, the way she looked in a bathing suit, her laugh, watching Saved By The Bell for hours on end with her... every great memory was right there, and as I walked back through the kitchen, for the first time in years, I missed her. It was fleeting (the missing) but intense... time for a fresh glass of this milky scotch I believe.