A Brief Moment of Silence

On this day in 1965, Pop Tarts were created.

Now we return to our regularly scheduled time wasting.

I recently decided that with The Commodore lost at sea, it was my duty to revive seersucker.
I mean, any staple of southern gentlemen is all right by me!

In speaking of wardrobe, a lady that I work with stopped me last week to comment on my striped tights (worn under grey cropped pants). She said, "You look like..."
"A pirate?", I offered hopefully.
"An oompa loompa."
Now, admittedly, I may have an astonishing haircut, but I am by no means knee high. Nor do I accept payment in candy. (Though I have considered it in more desperate times.) And for fuck's sake, this woman has been wearing STIRRUP PANTS almost continuously since the mid-90's. I hardly feel as though she is in any position to comment on anyone else's outfit.

Oh, and I DID win the office Apple Pie Smackdown. Someone asked the secret to my filling: just a touch of bourbon. Oh, and 3/4 c. of heavy cream. 'Tis the season!

I Should Really Know Better By Now

With the temperatures getting cooler and the air getting crisper it's prime apple pie and bourbon drinking weather. There's nothing quite like a cool night and a good glass of bourbon to make you feel warm down to the tips of your toes.

While bourbon sipping goes quite well with porch sitting and conversing with friends, it does not necessarily make cooking easier, although it does frequently make it more delicious. (See: bourbon balls, bourbon pecan pie and sauteed duck breast with bourbon cream sauce. Hmmm. There's an idea for a dinner party...) There may have been a slight biscuit disaster following the aforementioned bourbon sipping. (Note: "grease pan" is not a mere suggestion.) However, I was able to perform some damage control by dousing the whole debacle in cheese gravy. Cheese! It's good for covering up mistakes!

Baby, baby, can't you hear my heartbeat?

I don't consider myself to be a particularly loving person. When it comes to other people, (of course, llamas, kitties, puppies, OMG PONIES!!1!, hamsters, goatersons, etc. are not included in the rage-making) I find that I am, more often than not, filled with unbridled rage. (Thanks, Paris! Oh, and P.S. HA HA you're going to JAIL!)

So when my stone cold heart is moved by someone, it usually takes me by surprise and I'm all "WTF? Should I call an ambulance? Do I have any Zantac?"

Saturday I had a talk with my mechanic, who is the most fantastic man on the entire planet (Sorry, Santa Claus!) not only because he knows everything I don't about cars, but also because he is honest. He assured me that the $600 "scheduled maintenance" on my car was mostly a scare tactic and he'd let me know what (if anything) my car does need. That's basically what I thought, but since I don't know crap about fixing/maintaining cars, it's reassuring to hear it from someone who does. Especially since I just recently had to actually use the Extended Warranty thing to get my computer fixed which I had convinced myself was a waste of $100 when I bought it 2 years ago. Turns out it was worth it. The $129.99 they tried to charge me to reinstall Windows, however, would have been a waste of money since i am perfectly capable of inserting a CD and hitting enter a few times.

Later that evening I watched Calvin Borel win the Kentucky Derby on Street Sense and after hearing him talk in THE MOST ADORABLE CAJUN ACCENT I felt that unfamiliar twinge of emotion inside and wanted more than anything to scoop him up and put him in my jacket pocket. OMG PONIES!!1!! I dare you to read this guy's story and not get a little emotional.*

*No mint juleps were consumed during the writing of this blog.**

**Goddammit.

Hot Dog! We have a weiner!

(Or a frankfurter. Sometimes it's hard to tell.)



A while back I entered a contest sponsored by my favorite bourbon. They wanted to hear an adventure story. I forget which adventure I wrote about. It was either the "Hiking Down from Mt. Washington in the Dark Because I Forgot My headlamp in the Car" adventure or the "I am 8 Pitches Up the Side of a Sandstone Pillar and I Have to Pee Like a Fucking Racehorse And There's Not a Goddamn Thing I Can Do About it" epic.

At any rate, as you can see from the congratulatory letter I won 2nd Prize!!! I didn't win the mountain bike (grand prize) but I did get a nifty Bulleit Bourbon Hat. Which I will most likely never wear. (But if I do, I will take pictures)