I live life on the edge my friend. I have a few bottle of what I like to call basement liquor. I found them in the basement of a house that my mom and dad live in before their divorce in 1994. The labels have fallen off most of them, there is one or two with a little grit in in and one that smells and taste like turpentine. I also have a jar of Rock & Rye from my great granddads basement that I have to open with pliers since its rusted shut. I have some tales of drinking those. One ended with my waking up to my dad hitting me with a door a few times. I am like what the fuck Dad I am sleeping, leave me be. At that point he pointed out I was sleeping in the bathroom and he was just trying to get in and did not know what was blocking the door. I used the open toilet seat as a pillow and my beard was soaking in the grilled cheese that came back up and toilet water. Basement liquor is always a good time.