We have a Google “Home” device sitting atop a chest of drawers in our kitchen. Jen bought it this past Christmas. The kids love it. Jen does, too. Because it is connected to the internet, all you have to do is say, “Hey, Google,” and then ask it to do something—set an alarm, play a song by a certain band, share what the weather will be like tomorrow, or in the case of our youngest daughter with Diabetes, give the carb count in a cup of strawberries or whatever.

Of the multitude of things it can do, the one I think I enjoy the most, is making shopping lists. Not for me, of course. I hate shopping. Unless it’s for whisky. But Jen makes shopping lists, and oh how I love to sabotage them. And what’s great about it is that the Google Home will sync the list to her mobile phone, so as she’s traversing the supermarket aisles, I can be sure that she won’t forget to pick up the items I’ve added.

As I sit here, I’ve called out to the Google Home to share the makings of the current list. Here’s what’s on it:

yogurt
french fries
milk
butter
The Millennium Falcon
eggs
shredded sharp cheddar cheese
colby jack
deli turkey and ham
C4 explosives
bottled water
large cooking tray
a copy of the book How to Prepare and Cook People
a copy of the book How to Live with an Idiot
cereal
bread
hamburger
chicken breast
clothes to cover the naked chicken and provide it with some dignity in death
detonators for the C4
coffee
creamer
whisky-flavored creamer
broccoli
bananas
a house elf for Maddy because her sister Evelyn isn’t really working out
gabba gabba gabba gabba
pizza tree seeds
trip to Scotland
lightsaber
strawberries and seedless grapes
tomatoes
bag of potatoes
bag of pixie dust
colonoscopy
solar powered back scratcher
leave my shopping list alone, Chris
cement
sodium ferrocyanide
it’s my shopping list now, yo
one two buckle my shoe
a book on how to tie my shoes so that I can finally put shoe buckling behind me
I mean it Chris this is annoying
a billion Easter eggs shaped like monkey heads
jackhammer
ballet shoes and a leotard for dad
a disco ball
a bigger puke bucket for the kids
make it a puke bucket they can actually climb into
kyber crystals to power the lightsaber
you’re going to regret this, Chris
flowers for my patient and beautiful wife

Like I said, the Google Home is a useful little tool for accomplishing very important things. And with that, “Hey, Google, play ‘Rock of Ages’ by Def Leppard while I review the Jefferson’s Ridiculously Small Batch.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help with that.”

Sheesh. Too much in that request.

“Hey, Google, play ‘Rock of Ages’ by Def Leppard.”

“Alright. Here’s ‘Rock of Ages’ by Def Leppard.”

“Thanks, Google.”

Anyway, the whiskey being scrutinized today—the second of five in the pack—is the Wood Experiment Number 4, and like Number 3, it is a delightful little dram.

Cork removed and set aside, the lifting scent of grapes in light syrup is the first to meet the nose. There’s a hint of spice, but barely.

In the mouth there’s the taste of a fruit-filled chocolate candy—like something from a heart-shaped box one might receive on Valentine’s Day—except it’s the good kind of filling and not the weird flavored stuff you try and then spit out. There’s also a trace of nougat followed by something metallic.

The finish is medium in length, offering a drying spice to that fruit-filled chocolate you discovered while savoring.

“Hey, Google. What’s in that stuff in the center of the chocolates from the heart-shaped boxes that people give to each other on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help with that.”

“Hey, Google. Don’t feel bad. No one really knows the answer to that question.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help with that.”

“Hey, Google. Add ‘I love you’ to the shopping list.”

“Alright. ‘I love you’ has been added to your shopping list.”