Archive for December, 2007

The same old song

December 11, 2007 | Filed under: Comes And Goes, Mmhmm That's Right

“Today is the kind of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you” – Chuck Palaniuk via Anastacia Campbell

There are these days when I lean back and give a loud and exasperated sigh and harrumph to my Pollyanna-ish thinking. For how perfectly cynical I can be, it at times, catches me off guard and right when I’m thinking that nothing and no one can possibly be that bad or mean or completely and absurdly jealous. But then people surprise me in ways unimaginable and I am brought back down to earth, not with a bang but with a whimper and lo’ people are assholes. Huge assholes.

I’ve had numerous conversations over the past week where I, in a Pollyanna state pre falling flat on my face back to reality, express incredulity towards the behavior of others. Like why would someone intentionally be cruel to someone out of jealousy? Especially when the subject of the hatred has been nothing but kind? Why would someone’s unhappiness manifest itself into the spreading of ridiculous and unbelievably slanderous bullshit? The answer is very simple; people suck, that’s how it is and I need to just deal and yet each time something in that nature occurs I’m shocked.

It’s not just shock due to behavior but that these are adults. For once upon a time in a land not so far away, I had a grand idea that being an adult (which, for the record, I have finally accepted as I start to think about purchasing a car and a home and four people have asked me when I’m going to think about children P.S. I’m still 24 but apparently that doesn’t keep people from wanting to wrestle my ovaries into submission) would mean that the people around me would be nicer. Keep in mind that this was a full decade plus ago so when I say that I envisioned people being kinder without gossip, I’m not high or in need of a neurologist, it’s just that I was like 14 and generally stupid. But I honestly thought that as people change their behavior would automatically catch up to their age and they would be doused with a magic potion of knowledge, kindness and maturity. While for some people, very, very few people, that occurred, it has slowly come to pass that I am now realizing that some adults, are the same people they were in Junior High School and High School, but taller. And their voices have a deeper vibrato. Other than that, it’s the same old shit, different year.

I wish I could laugh it off and let piss poor behavior roll off my back. Like hardy, har har, people are shitty, get over it. But I can’t and I don’t. At least not yet. It’s like this great disappointment and even worse than the time my mother flatly told me that Santa wasn’t real. It’s this great disappointment to realize that some things rarely change. With people, change for the better is on par with a major seismic event occurring in Poughkeepsie, which is to say completely rare if any at all. But more than disappointment the entire thing just makes me sad. Though for once, I am not sad for me, I am sad for them. So maybe some people do change after all.

BFFE

December 9, 2007 | Filed under: "Oh night divine", Humdrum, Just Add Alcohol

“When the wine goes in, strange things come out.” ~Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller

For nothing says “we’re now going to string seven strands of lights and pretend to be happy, damn it” like a tall glass of cabernet sauvignon.

Eggnog; it’s not two words by the way

December 5, 2007 | Filed under: "Oh night divine", "The Pot Licker"

“Isn’t it funny that at Christmas something in you gets so lonely for - I don’t know what exactly, but it’s something that you don’t mind so much not having at other times.” ~Kate L. Bosher

In biology we were taught a lesson on fermentation. While my classmates were all fascinated by the possibilities of leaving a cup of juice out to make their very own Tropicana orange juice flavored alcohol, I was wholly unimpressed. For me biology meant cell reproduction and the formation of humans which put me on track towards a successful career in obstetrics and gynecology or perhaps midwifery if my mother got her way. Sadly, that line of work involved something like 17 years of schooling and homework and I am not really a sit down in a classroom type of person.. Nor am I person who enjoys thinking in absolutes, which is what following my deep-rooted passion of delivering babies would entail. This is how I ended up majoring in four social sciences, because I hated the fact that three plus three must equal six. Why can’t we think about it for a bit and maybe have several different answers that could all be correct? Why can’t everything be answered via loads of bullshit?

 

I didn’t like alcohol and that was ok because I had ten Judy Blume books to see me through the hard times like my lacking breast tissue and poor wardrobe. In time I made up for the former while the latter is still a little on the pathetic side. Before I go on another tangent about my cleavage vs. wardrobe issue, I’ll continue with my story about how I disliked alcohol and imagine my surprise when I learned that eggnog, the most delectable thing in the history of Holiday treats, had alcohol in it. No one identified what the alcohol in egg nog was so I spent years assuming that someone would dump a vat of Coors Light into my creamy bowl of love thereby ruining it forever with the disgusting taste of crappy beer.

Blah blah blah, I got some sense and literacy and now extol the virtues of grapes in their fermented form and I could write a book on the million and one things that alcohol could and should be added to just to make it taste a little better. I could also write a book composed of the world’s longest run-on sentences. But once again, I digress.

Alcohol, yes? I drink it but after several years of being so ill I thought I was hanging precariously to the threads of my short lived life due to hangover, I stopped drinking hard alcohol unless it’s Ketel One or Grey Goose vodka. I stick to wine for the most part and as of late, I pour a glass, take a sip and 10 minutes later I’m drooling into my flannel sheets. During college I learned the hard way about mixing several types of alcohol. All I’m saying is tread lightly. Sipping is the way to go once you combine brandy, rum and peach brandy. Hell, smell it and you’ll run to the nearest church basement for an AA meeting. But never fear because it’s chock full of deliciousness and you won’t even notice that you’ve consumed three types of alcohol and 800 calories in roughly 45 seconds.

The recipe is courtesy of Sheryl at Papernapkin and was actually intended for a tree-trimming event that I ended up missing because I was too busy trying not to physically harm drivers on the New Jersey turnpike. This vat of eggnog will be the first in several Holiday themed recipes. Feel free to thank me later and I’ll link to whomever posted the recipes first so that you know who to bill after your stint at rehab. Yields…um…several mug fulls of nutmegy goodness.

Eggnog:

12 eggs, separated

2 cups sugar

1 pint brandy

1/2 pint light rum

1/2 pint peach brandy

3 pints whole milk

1 pint heavy cream

Nutmeg (optional)

Beat the egg yolks and sugar together until thick. Slowly stir in the brandy, rum, peach brandy, milk and cream. Refrigerate until thoroughly chilled and pour into a punch bowl. Beat egg whites until stiff, and fold ever so gently into the eggnog. If you want to, grate a little nutmeg on top. If you take this to a Christmas party people will fawn over you, and you will be the hit of the party. And if not, you won’t care because you will be having a lovely lovely time all by your own self.

Idle bitching

December 3, 2007 | Filed under: Oh The Stupidity You'll See

“Cause you can’t stop the motion of the ocean or the sun in the sky. You can wonder if you wanna but I never ask why…” - Scott Whittman and Marc Shaiman

In the past few months this site has gone from the story of a 23 year old, wine and disgustingly expensive cheese loving, Kate Spade shopping, pearl wearing and foul mouthed girl to the story of a depressing 24 year old who has started drinking her pinot noir out of a plastic cup and visiting really exciting places like New Jersey. To prove that I am not completely devoid of personality here is the photo that I’ve plastered on my about page to say “Not only am I as boring as watching a dog pee but I’ve also mastered the art of being a brat”:

Torrie took this photo the day I left for Paris and it is now the photo on my about page so that first timers know that they’re reading the profound words of a woman whose tongue is about the same length as a giraffe’s. A woman who is not afraid to show off that proud possession and perhaps later there will be video of my stellar cherry stem tying skills.

The picture below was also taken by Torrie. When I asked what settings she was using she mentioned putting the White Balance on cloudy and I nodded and said “Ah ok” while mentally cataloging looking up white balance via wikipedia and maybe even cracking open the manual. I’m like a guy; sometimes I’d rather just wing it and take crap ass photos than actually…you know…READ the fucking directions. For the record, I once put together a chair from Target using the directions in Spanish. I ended up with a leftover screw:

Obviously it’s another photo with another child who does not belong to me. Willa looks terrified because my hair might consume her in one fell swoop.

And because I feel that woe should be an equal opportunity emotion, here is a photo of Chuck E. Cheese. All memories of my childhood came to fruition on Friday when Amy and I got competitive at skeeball. She kicked my ass though we ended up with the same number of tickets because I walked around stealing them from two year olds and out of machines. I shit you not when I say I even stole them from the two year old birthday boy. My rule has always been and will continue to be “If you drop them, they are mine. I don’t care if you were born in 2005 or 1985.”

No Pasa Nada: Providing a whole lot of nothing and excellent reasons to drink since 2005.