SlapClap

(image courtesy Refined Vices)

I had an epiphiany but I don’t know when. It happened at a bar, I do know that. At some point in the night I realized something: I’m not fancy.

There, said it. Never have been either. Those years of me wearing purple jeans to match the bill of my hat; auditioning for West Side Story for a drama coach with a polaroid of him shaking hands with Brad Pitt framed in his office; keeping 4/4 time signature in that funk tribute band to Mark Knopfler - they were a waste of time. I was a poser.

When I first moved to New York I made $15,000 a year (not true) and I still paid $75 each Monday to listen to Woody Allen play clarinet at the Cafe Carlyle. I owned the script pages for My Dinner with Andre. My girlfriend was a cellist. Fancy!

But then I dipped my lips into a delicious rock glass full of Jamesons- hold the rocks please, but then put the rocks back in because I love “the rocks” - and things were never the same. It’s the best drink at the bar every night.

There you have it. Jameson’s Irish Whiskey, congratulations on being the first ever entry into SlapClap’s Academy of CLaP Hall of Fame. A nod of honorable mention goes out to fishing, Bob Costas interviews and Redbreast. Stay tuned for more updates.

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