Thursday, May 26, 2011
If you can't tell, I'm giddy with anticipation for the 5th Annual Beer Olympics. No Longer Easy E and I are no strangers to gold...having won the Iron Liver Award one year, and the Team Spirit Award 2 out of 3 years. Alas, we have never clenched the Gold Mug Award. I got a feelin' (oooohoooo) that this is the year. The secret to our W this year- No Longer Easy E putting in long training hours chugging quarter cups of beer.
Flippy Cup will not be our nemesis this year, she will be our double rainbow and when we win that game my friends, there will be dancing.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
What taxi number do I call? - Intern
Don't call Erolls, they're racist.- A
I don't know Intern...because their hearts are full of hate. - A
No, I meant how do you know they're racist. - Intern
Help! There are 4 girls here and they're trying to take my clothes off. - Sweet D's Brother
I'm failing to see what the problem is here.....Tell him I'll come help.- SLBDJT
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
That’s what Momma used to say, well she’s never actually said that when I’ve whined about a hangover, but it seems for anything else that ailed you, rubbing dirt on it was an obvious solution. Here’s the thing, I’m not 22 anymore. In fact this year I’m turning, well let’s just say old enough where I should know better than to have my liver do a decathlon. With Intern in town I imagine we’ll be partying likes it’s 2007, and I can see the Beer Olympics on the horizon. There are really no options, so instead of primary prevention, I figure I’ll go for secondary or even in some cases tertiary.
CNN put out an article recently on food cures for hangovers from all over the place. I’m sure I’m not the only one who will try anything the day after the night you actually thought grape drank shots with 10 beer backs were a good idea. You know what I’m talking about; you awaken fully clothed, hopefully alone, crinkled bar receipt in your pocket, perhaps sleeping sideways on your bed, vision blurred, feeling as if you’ve spent the past week wandering the desert.
What cures you? Is it spicy, greasy, salty, sweet? I myself am kind of partial (Momma stop reading here, I’ll let you know when it’s ok to read again, just look for the bold print) to hungover sexytime, sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet, whatever it is about it, it works. Hmm, maybe it’s because sexytime is my favorite time of day and it ends in a nap. Just in case you don’t have the option of using my cure, lets talk food.
Pick up here Momma
In the good ol’ US of A we go for the greasy and fatty. Bacon, eggs, and anything fried are the go to food for the cure. Turns out fatty foods are actually a better prevention method than a cure, as the grease repels booze from the stomach lining. Eggs on the other hand contain amino acids which help to break down post-drinking toxins. Sweet! I love America, bacon for dinner, eggs for breakfast…sign me up.
In Denmark they call it "reparationsbajer", in Japan it’s “futsukayoi”, or “fix-it Brewster” and “second day drunk” respectively. I call this “hair of the dog”, turns out the Irish do as well so I’ll fit right in come June. In my opinion, the Danes, Japanese and Irish hit this one on the head, but science would have you believe that it does more harm than good because your poor liver has to start working double time.
I don’t know if Sarah Palin has ever seen a Russian drinking pickle juice straight from the jar while she keeps an eye on them from her front porch but turns out pickle juice = bye bye hangover. As if that isn’t gross enough, Koreans who throw down too much Cass or Hite eat some type of soup made from coagulated ox blood, cabbage, cow bones, pork spine and veggies.
My thoughts, if you can eat ground up cow soup or drink pickle juice straight from a jar (unless you’re Snookie of course) without throwing up, you probably don’t have that bad of a hangover. So quitcha whining and go make me some eggs, bring me a beer, or leave me alone so I can enjoy my favorite time of day.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
The day before Momma's last day in town I sent her an email with the names and numbers of some different bingo places around where I lived. She called and got the skinny of them, liked the sound of one in particular. Probably liked it because Denise, who ran the place, and her chit chatted on the phone for about a half hour. We showed up at 6pm and upon opening the door none other than Denise herself greeted us with Momma! A!, WELCOME! Guessing at this point they don't get a lot of new people. After Denise asked me if I was old enough to legally play bingo (she won me over right there) we were ushered in and introductions began. We were seated with Ann and Betty #2. Yeah, I have to number my Bettys in this story, there were a handful. Ann was a true bingo'er. She had a seat cushion, homemade I'm assuming, which was covered in fabric with bingo cards on it. She had at least 12 dobbers which came in different dobbing sizes. It might be easier to tell you what Ann didn't have in her bag, because if you needed something it was there. Wet nap? Indeed. Hard candies? Hell to the yeah. Ink pen? What color do you need. She knew all the games (Hatpin? 3x3? crazy 8's? lucky leprechaun?), which sincerely did come in handy because this rookie could have had bingo's all night and been none the wiser. Honestly she was my bingo savior. She even had a bingo wallet. It was crocheted and said "Bingo Money" on it. Apparently Betty #3 makes them (Her's said "Betty's Mad Money", I like her she's sassy); I was introduced to her later and told that if I kept coming she would make me one that said "A's Bingo Money". Might be reason enough to go back...well maybe if she makes me one that says "A's Bar Money", that would be pimp.
All in all it although I was anxiety filled through most of the evening it ended up being pretty fun. And I got a BINGO!, and won 35 whole dollars...big winner. At the end of the night Ann was quick to fill me in on another bingo hall she thought I should check out because of the big payouts (100-250) and told me she would see me there.
Not sure I'm ready for the big time, but who knows maybe the next time I buy a round of beers the money will come out of a wallet that says A's Bar Money.
With the knowledge that a 1 year old really has no idea that their birthday is actually their birthday and the large amount of toys and clothes she already has due to being surrounded by friends and family who can't resist buying adorable things for an adorable little girl I thought I would take a different route with her 1st birthday gift....
With all the playing I've been doing on Pintrest I stumbled upon this amazingly cute idea and decided making 10 tiny polaroid magnets of the prettiest girl I know over the past YEAR (still can't believe it) of her life would be something her parents could enjoy and something, maybe one day when she old enough to understand, she will look at and think of me and just how much I've loved her cute little butt since she was born.
In case you're looking to mimic this idea, it has some great instructions but I made some minor changes to suit my needs, such as using a spray on gloss sealant as opposed to scotch tape to cover the magnets and using a little super glue to make sure the magnets stayed on for the long haul. The end result.....
Happy birthday Little A! All of mine
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
As you can probably tell, I have some pretty realistic dreams. I remember a Friends episode once where Phoebe is mad at Ross but she can't remember why. Turns out he did something mean to her in her dream. I feel that, I often wake up (even from non Tylenol PM induced sleep) not sure if something actually happened or not. Now, don't get me wrong even though the dream about me being the Whooo version of Iron Man's sidekick felt real I was fully aware that I was not part of the Avengers. Sometimes though, even the most outlandish of dreams trick me....
I dreamed I met Ellen at her show and someone (whoever I was with at the show and had gotten me there) told her I had this amazingly hilarious laugh. So Ellen gets right up in my face and just says "laugh", she didn't even have a smile on her face, very stern and un-Ellen like actually. So I am so very nervous that I can only muster what I call my fake work laugh. Ellen looks at me, disappointed, kind of the same way the Tiger Woods does on Wii's Tiger Woods Golf game when I make the digital version of him shank one into the woods, and then she walks away. I cry. I woke up so sad, I'd missed my chance. It all seemed so real. Analyze that.
Monday, May 2, 2011
This past Sunday morning while She's Bossy was watching TV with her daughter she heard the 2nd worst 7 words your little girl could possibly mutter "Mommy can I be a pole dancer?"