I love bourbon. I blame my parents.
Years ago, when I was just a little tike, I am told that I used to climb out of my crib the morning after my parents would throw a party and I would drink the watered down leftovers. I guess it took my parents a morning after or two (possibly three) in order to figure out what was happening. Eventually, all good things must come to an end, and hence, this did too and I was caught, red handed (or probably more accurately, red faced). While I don't recall the incident myself, I do know that the sweet smell of bourbon brings back memories from long, long ago. Given the choice of a foo-foo drink or a glass of bourbon, I'll take the bourbon every time.
Bill says that bourbon is an old man's drink. I think not. I hardly resemble an old man!