This weekend was pleasant. Mads had a triple cavalier date with my friend JS and her two cavaliers, Gatsby and Hudson. Hudson took a liking to Mads and to be honest I thought he was going to produce a betrothal contract. Both parties pooped on the living room rug to show their affections while the humans dined on barbecue foods. People are always so skittish about eating around a dietitian, so I like to put them at ease by showing them that real women eat sweet potato fries with abandon.
JF (boyfriend/partner in crime) planned our entire day around Monty's happy hour and were adamant that we arrive at 4 P.M. when happy hour begins to ensure we got a parking spot. That tactic basically ensured we were sloshing like the ocean waves around us by 6 P.M. I was feeling Caribbean and got a Miami Vice which is perfect for the indecisive frozen cocktail lass, but I was really disappointed in that it tasted like cough syrup and produced an even more wicked stupor. We had REALLY earnest intentions to go out at night but the happy hour stymied any hope of that, so instead I happened upon a breast cancer fundraiser happy hour while I was walking Mads put on by my childhood friend MS at OTC, a favorite chow spot of mine. I resisted the pressure to drink any more, but I did purchase a $4.00 breast cancer cookie for the cause, which I stuffed into my purse and rediscovered on Saturday night at 2 A.M. to my delight after excursions to Brother Jimmy's BBQ and Blackbird. It should be mentioned that at Brother Jimmy's the bartender overheard me say that I hadn't been out in a while, which she interpreted as her prime opportunity to leap over the bar and rub her ample bosom all over my head/face. JF has never been so simultaneously shocked and pleased.
Sunday was a day for my parents abducting me to visit my grandparents at the nursing home, which is always a treat. There is nothing more grim than a visit to a nursing home. We are all slowly decaying, but it should never be so condensed in a single building. I feel like when life has run its course, we should just...float away. Like balloons.
The only thing to cheer you up after that will be the following cocktail recipes:
The Rich White Girl - courtesy of JD
White wine (the sweeter [girlier] the better.. BEASTING OFF THE RIESLING, ya dig?)
ice cubes
splash of gin
:::I'm Samannnntha... I have sex with eeeeevery boy:::
The MHA (MAH if you're a monogram kind of chick. Lookin' at you, Junior League friends.) Also known as the "Gin-gin cran"
1 part Gin (Tanqueray or Bombay Sapphire. Homie don't play no "well drink" game. Also - ew... why does it have to sound like it came from a well?)
1 part Gingerale - Seagram's is my fav. I think it tastes the most authentically ginger. If you can find ginger beer, that's even better. But alas, it's kind of a boutique mixer and you can only find it at "mixology" bars.
1 part Cranberry juice. CRANBERRY COCKTIAL, Y U NOT REALLY CRANBERRY? If you've ever had REAL 100% unsweetened cranberry juice, you will balk at the cranberry "cocktail"corruption that you've come to know and love. Sometimes I carry my own 6 ounce portions of the authentic juice and weird out bartenders by demanding they use it instead of their abomination that is cranberry cocktail.
No comments:
Post a Comment