I Swear I'm Not an Alcoholic. I Only Appear To be One
/It started about a year ago, when my husband sent me to the liquor store to buy mix for an event we were hosting.
I walked into our rural liquor depot and there it was, sitting on a slightly dusty shelf, staring at me.
A crystal skull filled with vodka. It could have been filled with the slobber of a rabid goat; I'd have bought it anyways. The Bloggess buys metal chickens, I buy skulls. We all have our things.
My husband rolled his eyes at my new shiny cranium and asked just exactly what I wanted to do with it once the bottle was empty. I rolled my eyes in return and replied, "Put my mouth wash in it, of course." And so I did.
I've since bought another for mouthwash in my husband's bathroom, another to contain hand soap at the kitchen sink and heck, I'm contemplating purchasing yet another to collect the tears of unhappy children every time I take away their video games.
My husband, while not understanding my near obsession with such items of awesomeness (I mean, it's part crystal ball, part cranium, part creepy and completely cool) decided to stop rolling his eyes at me for a second and instead indulge me on our fifteenth wedding anniversary earlier this year.
He came home bearing a slew of liquor filled skulls for me. Which just proves his love for me is more powerful than his tendency to be a stodgy fuddy duddy. Our love is true and strong and now, partially inebriated. Whatever.
But you know what happens when you write about your love of big shiny empty heads on the internet? No, you don't get a slew of emails from hot girls with big boobs and no brains, although don't tell my husband that otherwise he will remain convinced I'm just wasting my time out here. No. Someone will read your post and decide to help you take your obsession and turn it into a collection.
By mailing you Crystal Head shot glasses.
Mini skulls.
Even my husband had to admit the power of their collective awesomeness. So now not only do I have a collection of big and little empty heads dotting the nooks and crannies of my house, but now I have a FAMILY of them.
A momma and a poppa and tiny little babies, with a bunch of empty aunts and uncles lying around my house.
No one will ever believe I'm not a lush and that I rarely ever imbibe. But that's okay because I am surrounded by crystal magic. And possibly filled with good booze.
Big thanks to Breanne and the Crystal Head Team for making my day.
*And no, this post was not in anyway sponsored. I'm sharing because I care. Or I'm drunk. Possibly both. I just really dig this brand and darn if they aren't more awesome than the crystal heads I keep draining.*
I walked into our rural liquor depot and there it was, sitting on a slightly dusty shelf, staring at me.
A crystal skull filled with vodka. It could have been filled with the slobber of a rabid goat; I'd have bought it anyways. The Bloggess buys metal chickens, I buy skulls. We all have our things.
My husband rolled his eyes at my new shiny cranium and asked just exactly what I wanted to do with it once the bottle was empty. I rolled my eyes in return and replied, "Put my mouth wash in it, of course." And so I did.
The obsession begins...
I've since bought another for mouthwash in my husband's bathroom, another to contain hand soap at the kitchen sink and heck, I'm contemplating purchasing yet another to collect the tears of unhappy children every time I take away their video games.
My husband, while not understanding my near obsession with such items of awesomeness (I mean, it's part crystal ball, part cranium, part creepy and completely cool) decided to stop rolling his eyes at me for a second and instead indulge me on our fifteenth wedding anniversary earlier this year.
He came home bearing a slew of liquor filled skulls for me. Which just proves his love for me is more powerful than his tendency to be a stodgy fuddy duddy. Our love is true and strong and now, partially inebriated. Whatever.
Crystal Head Vodka, alongside Kah Tequila. Not to be confused. Two separate companies.
But you know what happens when you write about your love of big shiny empty heads on the internet? No, you don't get a slew of emails from hot girls with big boobs and no brains, although don't tell my husband that otherwise he will remain convinced I'm just wasting my time out here. No. Someone will read your post and decide to help you take your obsession and turn it into a collection.
By mailing you Crystal Head shot glasses.
Mini skulls.
Booze for brains!
Even my husband had to admit the power of their collective awesomeness. So now not only do I have a collection of big and little empty heads dotting the nooks and crannies of my house, but now I have a FAMILY of them.
A momma and a poppa and tiny little babies, with a bunch of empty aunts and uncles lying around my house.
I've named them all. Much to my husband's dismay.
No one will ever believe I'm not a lush and that I rarely ever imbibe. But that's okay because I am surrounded by crystal magic. And possibly filled with good booze.
Big thanks to Breanne and the Crystal Head Team for making my day.
*And no, this post was not in anyway sponsored. I'm sharing because I care. Or I'm drunk. Possibly both. I just really dig this brand and darn if they aren't more awesome than the crystal heads I keep draining.*
