Ek lieg, I didn’t get this to review. But it is my product-of-the-month, which is a new thing I’m trying where I do what bloggers do and review things in the hopes that somebody will send me lots of freebies of similar things. I will even take Harrier, so liquor producers, no brand is beneath me.
What it’s good for:
2.5 months after being booted out of Norway, 2.5 months of being away from my 3 year old, Ballantine’s has proved excellent for those nights when I am ugly-crying over my laptop at Facebook memories of my kid from last Halloween. It is ALSO an excellent lubricant for creative juices, and has had me writing about 40k words on a murder mystery novel I’m almost certain is all alcohol-fueled rubbish, but there is a significant sense of achievement at having written an entire dissertation’s worth of special nonsense. Although, now that I’ve written that sentence, I realise how redundant the reference to dissertations and special nonsense is.
What it’s bad for:
Oh, yes, I meant to leave this part out in the hope of securing a life-long symbiotic relationship with this excellent brand. But if I MUST, then it’s not great for day-to-day functionality, anxiety, mental clarity, driving, child care and most sports. I think darts might have a chance here, but I tried it with pool and even that was a bit iffy. It also encourages you to play pool, so I would consider that one of the most notable cons on this pros and cons list.
It has a handy square shape that fits neatly into most laptop cases, a plastic nozzle for pouring neatly so you look less drunk while doing it, and it is relatively lightweight, particularly if you’ve finished half of it on your way from the liquor store.
How to get it:
This part is easy. Go to your local liquor store (I recommend Topps). Hug the staff who know you by name and who find you amusing because they are all teetotalers with healthy livers and glowing skin. Pick up a bottle. Talk to the security guard awkwardly following you around (because you’re still ugly-crying about the Halloween photos and he spent months training to handle the unhinged). Pick up some chips and slangetjies at the till because diet be damned. Pay for the bottle, telling them in your most sober accent that this is for your father’s half birthday. Laugh with the cashiers as they let you think you fooled them.
Easy! Oh wait, come back for your keys and your wallet you left on the counter, but forget the slangetjies because you have some dignity.
How to use it:
There is no wrong way to use this product. Unless Tom Haverford is somewhere nearby.
Product of the month: five stars ***** !
There you have it! Product of the month. I particularly recommend it for those who proudly wallow in self-pity, and would accessorise it with some Coke if you’re that sort, or otherwise just a break-resistant tumbler.
My first encounter with this delightful Scottish export was at a backpackers in Copenhagen using the free drinks tokens (tokens!) my beautiful friend Isabel kept getting from the staff there and tossing my way. I sat, hunched over the bar counter shoving the tokens desperately at the Danish bartender, trying to speak Danish to him so that the rude, moderately racist man beside me could not understand what I was saying (does Australia export most of their racists to backpacking routes around the world? Or are they simply chucked out of the country?). And then Ballantine’s, sweet Ballantine’s, drowned the backpacker out. All I could hear was “Whaat i orlwaays saay is – haay, shay’s melting into the baar, mates. Look shay’s on the floor now. Mate, do you want to talk about Austraalia’s refugee problem?”
I have been forever endeared to it since then.