Slowly, I'm trying to convince myself that vodka is worth drinking. So far... it's Zamir to my Bourdain. Without the fangirls, and with the Turkish massage.
People have been trying to convince me of the virtues of this slimy offense to the senses (albeit with chameleon-like properties) since freshman year. At times, the chorus has been rather desperate: "It doesn't taste like anything, Jess, here, take a shot!" "It's better than whiskey, I promise!" "My god! Don't you like Bloody Marys?!?" "You can make it from potatoes! YOU'RE IRISH, YOU'LL LOVE IT!"
All through the conveyor belt pressures of college drinking culture, I stoutly refused to accept it as fit for human consumption. I have chosen instead the much more macho whiskey and rum families, and oh what a welcome they provided.
But, here I am, sipping a Bloody Mary cautiously. Maybe it's the vodka fangirls ("Bartender, make me a shot! I don't care what, something that tastes good! I want to get wasted and dance badly!"), maybe I feel like I missed out on the Luce Brunch Experience (and the subsequent vodka/tomato induced afternoon comas), maybe it was Chekov. Who always drank Wodka.
("Scotch? T'was inwented by a little old lady from Leningrad.)
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