For my dear javajunkie13!
Dean approves of Purple Nurples whole-heartedly. Which means that they are good and everyone should drink them more often because Dean’s word is, obviously, Law. So my dear little sister, go and have a drink and I’ll be toasting you from here as well. :)
Purple Nurple recipe:
1/2 oz Blue Curacao liqueur
1/2 oz raspberry liqueur
1 oz lemon vodka
1 splash cranberry juice
1 splash sweet and sour mix
1 splash Sprite® soda
1 lemon wedge
Blending Instructions:
Mix all ingredients in a shaker and strain into glass.
And since life is always better when a drunk Dean (plus Sam) is involved, behold:
Just keep pushing and I won’t be held responsible for my actions (or, the art of driving older brothers crazy) -------- SPN gen.
“You remember that time you turned into a turtle?”
They’re in Ohio, lying on their respective beds, wishing for the wretched snow to go away so they can finally move on. They’ve been cooped up inside the motel room for three days already, and Sam thinks he can see marks on the dirty carpet from Dean’s constant pacing.
So they’re getting drunk out of having nothing better to do.
“Oh no, man, you don’t get to turn things around. You were the one that turned into a turtle, dude,” Sam says, taking another swig from the now almost empty bottle of Jack. He squints a bit at the bottle, as if trying to figure out where the hell had most of the whiskey has gone to. He’s been talking non-stop for at least the past two hours. He’s been threatened with Nair at least three times by now.
Dean scrunches his face in concentration. “Oh, right. Heh, that was fun,” he says with a smile, probably finally remembering when that girl had all but fondled his shell as she tried to flirt with Sam, saying stupid stuff like I dig turtles, you know?
“Whatever, man, I wasn’t the one happily munching on day old lettuce for two weeks.”
“At least I wasn’t the one that spent a month looking like a six-year-old girl,” Dean says, chuckling, and Sam throws a pillow at his head. Dean catches it before it hits him.
“You swore you’d never mention it again, you asshole!”
Dean grins and puts Sam’s pillow under his head. Sam curses in his head as he lifts himself up with his elbows. He’ll now have to steal the pillow back if he ever wants to see it again. “Hey, you’re the one that goes all girly and shit while drunk and starts reminiscing like an old grandma, so don’t blame me,” Dean says, all cocky smile. He takes another swig of his bottle of tequila, and Sam doesn’t even want to know how that amount of alcohol had ended up in the car.
Sam lies back on his now pillow-less bed. “I hate snow,” Sam says, petulant and childish, and wow he really does whine a lot, huh? No wonder Dean looks like he wants to murder him slowly half of the time.
“That’s because you got soft in California, Sammy. Now stop being such a pussy and keep drinking like a good boy,” Dean says.
Sam sighs. The TV is on for background noise, and the Friends’ reruns aren’t exactly helping his mood. “Hey, remember that time you ended up with a tail?”
Dean groans and says “Oh God, shut up before I’m forced to kill you.”
Sam doesn’t shut up.
He’s kind of annoyed when he wakes up with the word ‘loser’ written on black permanent marker on his forehead, because really, overreacting much? But Dean looks real funny (and angry) with his legs shaved, so he figures it’s okay.
Purple Nurple recipe:
1/2 oz Blue Curacao liqueur
1/2 oz raspberry liqueur
1 oz lemon vodka
1 splash cranberry juice
1 splash sweet and sour mix
1 splash Sprite® soda
1 lemon wedge
Blending Instructions:
Mix all ingredients in a shaker and strain into glass.
And since life is always better when a drunk Dean (plus Sam) is involved, behold:
Just keep pushing and I won’t be held responsible for my actions (or, the art of driving older brothers crazy) -------- SPN gen.
“You remember that time you turned into a turtle?”
They’re in Ohio, lying on their respective beds, wishing for the wretched snow to go away so they can finally move on. They’ve been cooped up inside the motel room for three days already, and Sam thinks he can see marks on the dirty carpet from Dean’s constant pacing.
So they’re getting drunk out of having nothing better to do.
“Oh no, man, you don’t get to turn things around. You were the one that turned into a turtle, dude,” Sam says, taking another swig from the now almost empty bottle of Jack. He squints a bit at the bottle, as if trying to figure out where the hell had most of the whiskey has gone to. He’s been talking non-stop for at least the past two hours. He’s been threatened with Nair at least three times by now.
Dean scrunches his face in concentration. “Oh, right. Heh, that was fun,” he says with a smile, probably finally remembering when that girl had all but fondled his shell as she tried to flirt with Sam, saying stupid stuff like I dig turtles, you know?
“Whatever, man, I wasn’t the one happily munching on day old lettuce for two weeks.”
“At least I wasn’t the one that spent a month looking like a six-year-old girl,” Dean says, chuckling, and Sam throws a pillow at his head. Dean catches it before it hits him.
“You swore you’d never mention it again, you asshole!”
Dean grins and puts Sam’s pillow under his head. Sam curses in his head as he lifts himself up with his elbows. He’ll now have to steal the pillow back if he ever wants to see it again. “Hey, you’re the one that goes all girly and shit while drunk and starts reminiscing like an old grandma, so don’t blame me,” Dean says, all cocky smile. He takes another swig of his bottle of tequila, and Sam doesn’t even want to know how that amount of alcohol had ended up in the car.
Sam lies back on his now pillow-less bed. “I hate snow,” Sam says, petulant and childish, and wow he really does whine a lot, huh? No wonder Dean looks like he wants to murder him slowly half of the time.
“That’s because you got soft in California, Sammy. Now stop being such a pussy and keep drinking like a good boy,” Dean says.
Sam sighs. The TV is on for background noise, and the Friends’ reruns aren’t exactly helping his mood. “Hey, remember that time you ended up with a tail?”
Dean groans and says “Oh God, shut up before I’m forced to kill you.”
Sam doesn’t shut up.
He’s kind of annoyed when he wakes up with the word ‘loser’ written on black permanent marker on his forehead, because really, overreacting much? But Dean looks real funny (and angry) with his legs shaved, so he figures it’s okay.