Trust him, he was a Boy Scout.

I realize this post is coming immediately after a sweet little post about my Sunday school kiddos and the fun things they say.

Well, the older kiddos say some funny stuff too – as evidenced by Bourbon Boys Round 2 this past weekend.

Case in point: An inebriated Uncle Garr, giving us the best directions he can when we’re wondering how to get from one distillery to another.

Someone in the van: So which way do we need to go to get to Heaven Hill?
Uncle Garr, points at the sun: Well there’s the sun, motherfucker.

Yeah. You guys have no idea about how Saturday was. But I’ll be telling you. Very soon.

In the meantime, refresh your memory with Bourbon Boys Part Uno and relish in the fact that you were there, you remember, the first time the f-bomb was dropped at

We’re making history here, people.

Published by Laura

I've got a few stories to tell.

One thought on “Trust him, he was a Boy Scout.

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