Ep.117 Chicken Cocked and Sleep Deprived

*]:pointer-events-auto R6Vx5W_threadScrollVars scroll-mb-[calc(var(--scroll-root-safe-area-inset-bottom,0px)+var(--thread-response-height))] scroll-mt-[calc(var(--header-height)+min(200px,max(70px,20svh)))]" dir="auto" data-turn-id= "request-WEB:104f531c-5c7e-4da8-9dac-dac1ebb728ea-1" data-turn-id-container= "request-WEB:104f531c-5c7e-4da8-9dac-dac1ebb728ea-1" data-testid= "conversation-turn-4" data-scroll-anchor="false" data-turn= "assistant"> Mike somehow survived the busiest week of his adult life and immediately rewarded himself with one of the worst whiskeys we've ever tasted. This week the boys return to the studio after Mother's Day weekend to try Chicken Cock Southern Spice, gifted to us by Booze Brian, which tastes like someone soaked Christmas pinecones in regret and poured it into an aluminum bottle with a screw top. Truly horrific stuff. We recap the 14-hour Mother's Day dance competition marathon at the Oregon Convention Center, complete with mimosas, pastries, an aggressively overachieving coffee bar by Derek, and five dads wearing matching track suits that somehow got compliments all day long. Honestly, we should've entered the competition ourselves. Mike also breaks down his Arizona death march: 4am flights two graduations consecutive 2am bar nights moving Madi out a packed party house with 12 people and a Frankenstein Bloody Mary stacked with more food than alcohol. Somewhere in the middle of all this, we discover the Oregon Convention Center security guards may not survive a strong gust of wind. Thankfully, the second half of the episode returns to sanity with our beloved Green River Wheated bourbon because after surviving Chicken Cock Southern Spice, we deserved a reward.