Archive for the 'Just Add Alcohol' Category

No more sauce

March 14, 2008 | Filed under: Just Add Alcohol

“And then he goes off on one of those run on sentences that little kids often do. Sometimes little kids are every bit as good as William Faulkner” – Jonathan Kozol.

Last night Jonathan Kozol was in town, which caused several individual bits of brain matter to have repeated orgasms. As they were unable to believe the fortune that had fallen upon their laps with the opportunity to hear the God of Pedagogy speak in the flesh. So they did what any obedient brain matter would do, they soaked up every bit of information and laughed heartily at anecdotes of the failures of education policy.

And this is how a week of complete nerdgasm ended. With my final, “Guess who I saw?!?!” and everyone surrounding me giving their best “I could give two shits” look of complete incredulity. It’s been fun to be bouncing off the walls because Anil effing Dash was three feet in front of my face and Jon and I had a nice chat about my shot put abilities and I knew David Paterson before he was famous. And yes this is all so very titillating (apparently it’s sexual innuendo day in these parts) to like 17 people. The rest of the free world questions if at any moment I had had more than three drinks. Funny! Because 90% of my OH you think I’m a complete DORK? I’ll show you complete DORK to the 89th power, week of fun was not so proudly powered by grey goose. In fact Tuesday night, when the BFFE came to town, my main and only course at dinner was vodka.

This my friends is the week that I realized that a) I will get sick of drinking. So sick in fact that if anyone at anytime in the next 24 hours presents me with any sort of alcohol, well, I cannot be held responsible for what I might do to that person. And b) Holy shit, I am such a flaming dork. So flaming that one might think that pocket protectors are going to shoot out of my ass.

I now need a nap. A very, very long nap. And if anyone feels moved to ask me about wine, then be prepared to lose an appendage.

Secrets

January 16, 2008 | Filed under: Humdrum, Just Add Alcohol

“But oh! the blessing it is to have a friend to whom one can speak fearlessly on any subject; with whom one’s deepest as well as one’s most foolish thoughts come out simply and safely. Oh, the comfort - the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person - having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.” ~Dinah Craik

On Saturday night Marci and I did our usual Georgetown gallivanting; crepes, wine and vodka. After half a glass of wine, I started divulging shit like she had a gun to my head or she was going to smash the bottle of Tempranillo on the ground (Can you picture it all slow motion like with me diving in front of the bottle to cushion it’s blow to the cold hardwood floors?) I swear all she had to do was look at me quizzically and it bore me down on the spot. When it comes to keeping things to myself I frankly suck at it. All it takes is one perfectly arched eyebrow to have me spewing. Though never about others and their secrets because a true narcissist knows that the Earth revolves around her. Duh. Despite that I’m very careful with whom I share things with and it’s as if I have some sort of sensor buried into my unconscious that knows exactly who to trust. Call it a by-product of being fucked over repeatedly by 7th grade ‘friends’. By the end of the evening, after grey goose was imbibed and boys were beaten off with a stick, we stood on Wisconsin Avenue debating and analyzing. Even if I know the answers are sometimes a little validation is needed from those that know me best. A good talk and gentle reminding or perhaps a good knock to the head; either way, I love in so many ways that I’ve surrounded myself with people who keep me honest and listen to my bitching about the most innocuous of things. Would it be cliché to say that we should all be so lucky?

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.

No thank you

October 29, 2007 | Filed under: Humdrum, Just Add Alcohol

 

I currently have no interest in writing or talking or standing upright or opening my eyes. Perhaps too much stimulation and slutty nurses/policewomen/witches/brides/zombies/butterflies to bring about anything coherent. Though I’m thinking of writing a startling exposé for Halloween simply titled Slutty Clown: Yay or Nay? 

How to make a black woman violent

August 9, 2007 | Filed under: Just Add Alcohol, Oh The Stupidity You'll See

“The more I see of men, the more I like dogs.” ~Madame de Staël

1) While at a very Irish bar in South Boston wherein there are no other black people within a five mile radius; you – being a drunk, white, male - turn to her and say “Do a lot of black women come to a pub like this?”

2) Smile like an idiot when saying it and then make some idiotic ‘heh’ noise, because you think you’re so damn brilliant.

3) Be clad in a Hard Rock t-shirt and flip flops

4) When she ignores you, because she’s too busy imagining your testicles in a Mason Jar on her desk, continuously bump into her

5) Confess that you are doing it on purpose and that she is reciprocating and “feeling it” (For the record, she has some class and standards and would rather sit through 17 hours of the fucking circus - with the clowns and everything - before touching you on purpose)

6) Ask her for her phone number

7) When she says no, tell her that you’re going to slip away for a second and when you get back, slip you the number

8 ) Not get the hint that she hates you with the fire of a million suns and you are unable to understand this until her burly boyfriend (READ: White, older, Republican, favorite drinking pal) comes up and announces loudly “So whose ass do I have to kick”

At which point you cower and walk towards the door while giving glances back at said black woman and her ‘hot’ boyfriend. It’s most likely because you’re a pussy and possibly afraid of Republicans who can drink you under the table. Asshat.