my feet are cold

This is true, or it was true. I have fresh laundry in a basket, including socks, but Honey was asleep on the pile. So I held out for as long as I could before disturbing her.

She walked off in a huff, drank some water, sneezed a couple times, rubbed up against my leg (so I guess I’m forgiven) and then returned to the basket.

busy pouting.jpg

I’m not working tomorrow so I am sipping on a vodka and fizz over ice.

I am also pinning items to my Booze board on Pinterest.

So… I have stumbled onto the subject of homemade spirits to give as holiday gifts.

I can’t tell you how much I love this idea, but who the hell would I give it to in my family?

I have one black sheep uncle who would think it was cool, but he would blab about it to someone in the damn-fam and then my parents would get all huffy with me… and pout…

busy pouting

But I have a lot of boozy friends. And I can’t have parties with them at the current mo.

Thinking of friends and mixed drinks makes me want to post this video.

Alright, some things to know about how to have a top-notch “hoochie coochie” party.

First thing: don’t ever ever ever drive drunk, and never let your friends do it either.

So if you are going to have a inebriated girls night in, then either have designated drivers to get all the ladies home, or have couches and pop-up beds for them to sleep on.

Be a responsible lush, and a responsible host.

Also, always ask your neighbors if they are okay with a drunken hen party that will no doubt devolve into karaoke and some partial nudity.

drunk girl karaoke.jpg

Women like to nibble and nosh and share plates with each other, so have some tapas a.k.a. finger foods (I call them “toasty mosties”) and get into that kitchen and concoct something strange and delicious for them to drink.

Start with the shots, coast with the beer/cider and set a hydration timer so everyone drinks enough water.

Kind of like you do in the summer with kids vis-a-vis sunscreen and popsicles.

Oh, and shut up the cats and have plenty of treats for the dogs, because they won’t know what the hell is going on.

freaked out cat

The following are drinks which I have made up from mad inspiration and whatever I could lay hands on in my kitchen.

Green Goddess. From time to time, I decide that I can garden.  I usually end up realizing I simply don’t care enough to keep plants alive. Children, husbands, pets: yes. Plants: no.

home is where.jpg

During one of my many sporadic attempts to have a green thumb, I made a drink with homegrown parsley and chives with celery salt and Tabasco from the pantry. I muddled that all together with lime juice, doused it with vodka and shook it hard with ice.

Pour into a martini glass and top with Sprite and add a cucumber curl.

It tastes sort of midway between a mojito and a Bloody Mary.

Twat Waffle. My ex-husband used to drink cheap and nasty vodka which I couldn’t stomach even if it was iced arctic cold.  So I came up with a last-ditch solution, after all the other alcohol had been consumed, to make the rot-gut palatable.

Start with a plastic Rubbermaid container like this.

rubbermaid drink.jpg

Wow, according to eBay this item is considered vintage. I feel so old.

Anyway, add equal parts bottom-shelf vodka, Diet Coke and then a couple teaspoons of maple extract. Swirl it around, don’t shake it, because it has carbonation in it.

Then serve in a regular glass over ice.  Store leftovers in freezer.

FYI: when you are hella drunk with your girls, asking someone if they want another twat waffle is just too perfect of an opportunity for unladylike behavior.

I offer you real conversation from just such a situation.

You’re a twat waffle.
No, you’re a twat waffle.
You’re a Old El Paso Stand ‘n Stuff Taco.
That’s what he said.

stand-n-stuff-taco.jpg

Peanut Butter Cup. This one almost doesn’t qualify because there were many failed attempts and I ultimately had to buy an item that I would use exclusively for the drink.

Simply put, peanut butter does not blend well into a cocktail.

Horrible, horrible, horrible experiments with peanut butter and alcohol. All gone wrong.

So I had to make my own peanut butter vodka by purchasing some 100 proof Smirnoff, consuming half of the bottle (not all in the same sitting, geeeez!) and then adding an entire bottle of this to the hooch.

reeses peanut butter syrup.jpg

This takes about a week to make, so start a week before you need it. Every day, take it out of the freezer and shake it like you’re an extra on a Taylor Swift video.

 

BTW, I have tried Skrewball Peanut Butter Whiskey and I am not a fan.  The whiskey taste gets in the way of the peanut butter taste IMHO.

skrewball pb whiskey.jpg

Once you have your PB liqueur GTG, then mix it with some Godiva chocolate liqueur (chocolate syrup will do in a pinch) and some half and half. Shake it hard. Then take a martini glass and rim it with real peanut butter and then cocoa powder. Pour, enjoy, tip your waitress, don’t drink drunk. Ever.

So, back to my cold feet. Ron finally found the nerve and asked if I wanted to get a coffee with him sometime. We have a date to pre-caffeinate before Thanksgiving Night Insanity.

I told him that it would have to be as a friend, with absolutely no sense of expectation.

He said, “Of course.”

I don’t know if he really means that, but I trust him enough to stop if I say no.

Maybe my feet, and the rest of me, will warm up to him.  Maybe not. I like the thought of liking the thought, though, if that makes any sense.

Because I am totally ready to have a guy treat me right, for once.

Speaking of the alternative, this poem is dedicated to my first husband.

After he announced that he was trans-sexual, I went (more than) a little crazy and broke one very big commandment while I was waiting for the divorce to be finalized.

In my mind, my marriage to him ended on August 18, 1999, exactly nine years after our wedding. And I feel absolutely no guilt for my trangression, as you will see.

I didn’t feel like including punctuation on this poem. Such a rebel, me.

adultery

I will snip
and I’ll clip
corners to make a red letter

but don’t say
in some way
I am less and you are better

to my bed
lust I lead
won’t apologize for my need

but know this
one quick kiss
and he was swiftly brought to heed

Christ forwent
chastisement
and that is a lesson for you

mote to beam
squelch the dream
I was ever someone you knew

Hours I own all of these ideas, but none of these images.
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