No More Jack

The life span of a three liter bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the hands of two college guys is ten days, assuming they leave it alone for five or six of those days and have a little help (and by little help, I mean a few shots, not a significant contribution).

We had a good run, and while I grieve our loss, I like to think I’ll remember the good times.

On the other hand, we’ve got a bitchin fish tank now. I want to go to the pet store some time this week and get me a Beta to live in there. I’d like to name him Jack or Coke, but I can hardly steal FN’s pet names. I just can’t think of anything more appropriate.

(PS - I know I look like a blind retard mourning the loss of an ice cream cone, but it’s REALLY hard to look sad, look at the empty bottle, AND aim the camera at the same time.)