All About Penelope 9:15 AM

I’m just so glad this wasn’t one of those Purity Tests.

I have…

( ) Gone on a blind date
(x) Skipped school—not in high school, but def in college.   
( )  Watched someone die—thank heavens, no.     
(x) Been to Canada—if you count the waters in Niagara Falls.
( ) Been to Mexico
(x) Been on a plane    
( ) Jumped out of a plane     
( ) Been on a Helicopter    
(x) Gotten lost—too often     
(x) Been to the opposite side of the country—to visit m!
(x) Been to Washington , DC—FUN!     
(x) Swam in the ocean—lots of times.  

(x) Been stung by a jellyfish—ouch.
(x) Cried yourself to sleep—sigh.
( ) Played flashlight tag
(x) Recently colored with crayons—it’s very relaxing.       
(x) Sang Karaoke—it’s pretty silly.
( ) Gone Water Skiing
(x) Made prank phone calls—oh yes.      
(x) Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose     
(x) Caught a snowflake on your tongue    
(x) Danced in the rain     
(x) Written a letter to Santa Claus     
(x) Gotten kissed under the mistletoe     
(x) Watched the sunrise with someone you care about     
(x) Blown bubbles—so fun.       
(x) Gone ice-skating—terrible at it.

( x) Gone Snow Skiing—sort of. In the backyard, once.

(x) Gone camping—I love it.     
( ) Had major surgeries—feel lucky.
( ) Gone skinny dipping outdoors—not yet!
( ) Gone to the movies in the past month—it’s been too long.      
(x) Gone to a drive-in movie—also very fun.     
(x) Paid for a meal with coins only? Isn’t that all they accept at Taco Bell?
(x) Gone Roller Skating—not good at it, either.   
(x) Done something you told yourself you wouldn't, when alcohol wasn't a factor? Sigh.

(x) Been on TV? For a split second, from a taping of the Dr. Phil show. I was in the audience, obvi.

(x) Eaten cookies for dinner? I wish I could every day.

( ) Stole a traffic sign

(x) Been in a car accident

1. Birthplace? Johnson City, NY

2. Any Tattoos? Nope.
3. Body Piercings? No, but I used to have 5 earrings, five in one ear, 3 in the other.
4. How much do you love your job?  Clearly it’s the best job ever!

5. Favorite vacation spot? When I was younger, Ocean City, NJ. Now… Asheville, NC? I don’t go enough.

6.  What continents have you been to?  Europe. 
7. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle?  4.
8. Favorite salad dressing? Balsamic vinaigrette.
9. Favorite food? Pizza. Or pasta. Or chocolate.
10. Favorite number? 5.

11. Favorite movie? The Breakfast Club

12. Favorite holiday? Christmas, hands-down.
13. What's on your mouse pad?  It’s black. My husband picked it out.

14. Favorite day of the week?  Sunday? Or Wednesday.

15.What do you do to relax? Read, watch TV or movies.

16. Favorite toothpaste?  Colgate Sensitive. 
17. Favorite smell?  My baby’s head.

18. How do you see yourself in 10 years? HMMMMM. My nails are chewed off, since my daughter will nearly be a teenager. But I’ll still be making cupcakes for her school bake sales. I will hopefully not be wearing Mom Jeans.   

19. When was the last time you cried? When Jim proposed to Pam on The Office. 

20. What was the last thing you ate? A peppermint patty.

21. What color shirt are you wearing today? Yellow, strangely.

22. What are you listening to right now? Gossip Girl.

23. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Hunter Green.

24. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? J.Lo (husband).

25. Who did you send an email to most recently? Ash.

26. Most recent email you received?  From Megan.

27. What are you reading now? Eclipse, the 3rd book in the Twilight series.

28. What color are your eyes? Green. Blue if I’m crying.

29. What did you watch on TV last night? SNL (it was DVR’d).

30. How annoyed are you Andria forced you to answer one of these stupid emails for a Weekly Special? Not at all, I kind of like these things.

so you wanna know about me? 4:36 AM

For the weekly special, I'm regaling you with the things I've done and haven't done, along with a few survey questions...enjoy...

Things I’ve done:
*Skipped school (at least in college; I was a big ol' fraidy cat in high school)
*Been to Mexico
*Been on a plane
*Been to Washington, DC
*Been on a Helicopter
*Gotten lost (I should have put this down as one of my hidden talents last week)
*Been to the opposite side of the country
*Swam in the ocean
*Cried yourself to sleep
*Played flashlight tag
*Sang Karaoke (very poorly)
*Made prank phone calls (and got grounded for it, in the 5th grade)
*Gone Water Skiing (does it count that I never actually got up on those %$#& skis?)
*Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
*Caught a snowflake on your tongue
*Danced in the rain
*Written a letter to Santa Claus
*Gotten kissed under the mistletoe
*Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
*Paid for a meal with coins only
*Gone Roller Skating
*Done something you told yourself you wouldn't, when alcohol wasn't a factor
*Been on TV
*Blown bubbles
*Gone ice-skating
*Gone Snow Skiing
*Gone camping
*Gone skinny dipping outdoors (isn't skinny dipping indoors considered taking a bath?)
*Eaten cookies for dinner
*Been in a car accident

Things I’ve never done:
*Gone on a blind date
*Watched someone die
*Been to Canada
*Jumped out of a plane
*Been stung by a jellyfish
*Recently colored with crayons
*Had major surgeries
*Gone to the movies in the past month
*Gone to a drive-in movie
*Stole a traffic sign (but I did steal a traffic one, once...)

1. Birthplace? Athens, Georgia

2. Any Tattoos? Nope. I’m not letting a needle touch my skin unless there’s a compelling medical reason for it to be there.

3. Body Piercings? Ears.

4. How much do you love your job? Enough not to quit.

5. Favorite vacation spot? Santorini, Greece, or anyplace in Italy

6. What continents have you been to? Not that many, sadly. Just North America (obviously) and Europe.

7. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? 2-door.

8. Favorite salad dressing? Oil & Vinegar.

9. Favorite food? Seafood.

10. Favorite number? The number 13. Unlucky for most, but it’s my birthdate.

11. Favorite movie? Gone with the Wind.

12. Favorite holiday? Christmas, hands down.

13. What's on your mouse pad? My mouse. The pad is plain black.

14. Favorite day of the week? Friday. All the anticipation of a great weekend without the dread of a Sunday.

15. What do you do to relax? Sleep. Does that count?

16. Favorite toothpaste? Colgate

17. Favorite smell? Bacon frying on a stovetop

18. How do you see yourself in 10 years? The same way I see myself now, except for maybe some kids. Who knows…

19. When was the last time you cried? Last night, while watching Grey’s Anatomy. They just had to put Denny Duquette in the premier, didn’t they??!

20. What was the last thing you ate? A brownie.

21. What color shirt are you wearing today? White. Which is actually the absence of color…so…

22. What are you listening to right now? Ingrid Michaelson

23. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Blue. Probably Cadet Blue in the 64 Crayola box. I like that color.

24. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My husband

25. Who did you send an email to most recently? My mother-in-law

26. Most recent email you received? Something work-related, I’m sure.

27. What are you reading now? This survey.

28. What color are your eyes? Blue

29. What did you watch on TV last night? The Grey’s Anatomy season premier.

30. How annoyed are you Andria forced you to answer one of these stupid emails for a Weekly Special? Not terribly so... :)

The Amazing Crepes! 8:45 AM

Sunday morning, I began the Great Crepe Experiment. They’re something I’ve always wanted to try making, since my singular memory of them dates back to 1999, during a brief but tumultuous but fantastic trip to Paris. (I might have been drunk for 4 days.) My favorite crepe of the trip came from a street cart, and was filled with Nutella. YUM. Nine years later, and that IHOP commercial with the crepes keeps playing… I could no longer hold out on this crepe-tastic mission.

The recipe I used comes, of course, from AllRecipes, and it’s a goodie.

• 2 eggs
• 1 cup milk
• 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 pinch salt
• 1 1/2 teaspoons vegetable oil

1. In a blender combine eggs, milk, flour, salt and oil. Process until smooth. Cover and refrigerate 1 hour.

2. Heat a skillet over medium-high heat and brush with oil. Pour 1/4 cup of crepe batter into pan, tilting to completely coat the surface of the pan. Cook 2 to 5 minutes, turning once, until golden. Repeat with remaining batter.

I didn’t plan ahead well, so the refrigerating didn’t happen, but as advised by many reviews, it didn’t matter. Since I decided on *sweet* ingredients this time, I added a tiny bit of vanilla to the batter, as suggested by some reviewers. Also used cooking spray instead of oil on the pan.

For cooking, I ended up using a cast-iron griddle. The regular griddle didn’t sit flat enough on the burner for even heating, and the cast-iron pan might have gotten too hot and filled the whole kitchen with copious amounts of smoke. I might have had a lot of dishes to wash by the time this experiment was all said and done. But the result? Some damn tasty crepes.

We used Nutella for filling (yay!), as well as strawberry and blueberry jam. The jam’s sweetness made me want to die a little. But the experiment continues. Later this week, for dinner, I’ll be trying out scrambled eggs as filling, with some crumbled bacon and cheese.

Try the crepes! They’re fabbo, and hold so many possibilities. And if you’re already a crepe connoisseur, please share your fav fillings in the comments. 

Nosy Nellys Rejoice! Here's My 4-1-1 6:43 AM

So you want to know all about me, do you? Well then aren't you lucky that Andi has us all set up to quench your thirst for knowledge (or just be nosy, whichever) with this week's weekly special. It's one of those email forwards, but sometimes a list type format is the only way to get the heart of it. Oh, and the 30 questions. They'll do it too.

I've Never:

Gone on a blind date
Watched someone die - really? That's an option?
Been to Canada - never, eh?
Jumped out of a plane - don't think I wouldn't if given the chance!
Been on a Helicopter
Been to the opposite side of the country
Been to Washington ,DC
Been stung by a jellyfish
Gone Snow Skiing - would love to
Gone skinny dipping outdoors - I'm kind of sad to say no, but I'm still young! I've got time!
Gone to the movies in the past month
Been on TV?
Eaten cookies for dinner? - not cookies, per se, but definitely JUNK

But perhaps I have:

Skipped school - shhh!
Been to Mexico
Been on a plane
Gotten lost
Swam in the ocean - Atlantic
Cried yourself to sleep - who hasn't?
Played flashlight tag
Recently colored with crayons - Yep, mother of a four year old here...
Sang Karaoke - As if you didn't know
Gone Water Skiing - LOVE IT!
Made prank phone calls - Word to the wise: DON'T prank call your teacher. That never turns out well.
Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose
Danced in the rain
Written a letter to Santa Claus
Gotten kissed under the mistletoe
Watched the sunrise with someone you care about
Blown bubbles - just the other day, actually
Gone ice-skating - For my 26th birthday I bought myself ice skating lessons at the local city park
Gone camping - I lived in an old ramshakle place in the woods, does that count?
Had major surgeries
Gone to a drive-in movie
Paid for a meal with coins only? - Um, yes, I attended college. I believe these two things go hand in hand.
Gone Roller Skating - Hell yeah!
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't, when alcohol wasn't a factor?
Stole a traffic sign
Been in a car accident

Because you're just dying to know:

1. Birthplace? Athens, GA
2. Any Tattoos? Nope
3. Body Piercings? Negative again
4. How much do you love your job? A fair bit
5. Favorite vacation spot? Not that I vacay all that often, but when I went to St. Thomas, VI it was pretty damn nice
6. What continents have you been to? North America!
7. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? 4 door
8. Favorite salad dressing? Blue cheese
9. Favorite food? mashed potatoes
10. Favorite number? 10
11. Favorite movie? Christmas Vacation
12. Favorite holiday? Christmas
13. What's on your mouse pad? Can I lie, or do I have to tell you that it's TSC (for Tractor Supply Co.)?
14. Favorite day of the week? Friday
15.What do you do to relax? Read
16. Favorite toothpaste? Crest cool mint gel, cavity protection is the only way to go!
17. Favorite smell? magnolia blooms, babies fresh from the bath
18. How do you see yourself in 10 years? Skinny, tan, and actively covering the gray in my hair from having a teenager
19. When was the last time you cried? last month
20. What was the last thing you ate? McD's southern style chicken sandwich (representin'!)
21. What color shirt are you wearing today? red
22. What are you listening to right now? the noisemaker in baby A's room, through the monitor
23. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Red. Definitely red.
24. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? My husband
25. Who did you send an email to most recently? co-worker
26. Most recent email you received? My sister
27. What are you reading now? The Pillars of the Earth, per Pen's suggestion (and it's GOOD!)
28. What color are your eyes? green
29. What did you watch on TV last night? I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. Ok, fine. My dear Georgia Bulldogs make a wonderful rally but fall short of making up the MASSIVE deficit in points.
30. How annoyed are you Andria forced you to answer one of these stupid emails for a Weekly Special? Not too much!

30+ Questions 10:06 AM

This week, get to know your barmaids a little better. We'll each be filling out one of those annoying email forms telling you some of the things we've experienced in our lives. So, sit back, grab a cold one and we'll see what we all have in common. Maybe we're all wearing blue jeans one the same day! Or have Spongebob on our mouse pad! Or maybe really love fried mushrooms. Wouldn't that be so exciting?!

WTFriday, Generally Speaking 7:30 PM

Last night on The Office, the whole staff was in a diet competition with the other branches, and some characters took it more seriously than others. Kelly did the good ol’ Master Cleanse, aka The Original WTF, and I absolutely adore how they handled her piece of the storyline. Because, EXACTLY.

Please watch the clip, it’s hi-larious.

Application for Awesomeness Pending 1:30 PM

Qualifications:

• Somewhat of a domestic diva. And let’s just note that when J.Lo took the test on my behalf, I scored well over a hundred.
• Domestic diva abilities include running own company, making (and using!) own household cleaners, and pinching pennies.
• Also baking a mean cookie.
• And cooking. Specialties include homemade meatballs and sauce, pizza from scratch, crab cakes, chicken pot pie… and lots of other stuff. 
• Can pack five tons of shit into a ten-ton bag. Or room. But that doesn’t really make sense.
• Multi-tasking. Three blogs, two children, one husband, and a whole mess of TV shows? It’s a lot of work!
• I decorate for holidays. A little bit.
• Oh, and I can make snowflakes!
• I know how to insert hyperlinks.
• I also bowl pretty good on the Wii.
• I’ve only gotten one speeding ticket in my life and to date have no car accidents on my record. On a related note, I have a semi-psychic ability to foresee when people will change lanes.
• Never had a cavity. Yet.
• Never broke a bone.
• Never had stitches.
• And apparently have never lived on the edge!
• But I’m okay with that. Because I can write a good list.

Barefoot is SO Last Season 5:50 PM

You're all well aware that we barmaids have a penchant for fashion and shoes.  As your comments and blogs indicate, you readers are sassy, trendy ladies (and gentlemen??) yourselves.  Please help prevent this bartender from becoming her own worst WTFriday Fug.

WANTED: PERSONAL SHOPPER(S)

It's like this. I need some new shoes. Badly. The problem: I live in the middle of nowhere, a good 45-60 mins away from a decent mall, and I do not possess the attention span or time to properly attack this task over the internets.

The Goal: Find me some cute but solid work shoes.

The Prize: $25 gift certificate to Zappos.com or Amazon.com if I select your shoes

The BONUS Prize: $50 gift certificate to Zappos or Amazon if the shoes I select are vegetarian and eco-friendly shoes, i.e. no animal producs and good to the environment (as defined by me). (that's $50 total, not in addition to, just to be clear. Because I'm not rich.)

The Time: At least one week, until Oct 2, or as long as it takes to find me some shoes or give up on the entire project

The Catch: I'm kind of picky. Just because I'm having this contest doesn't mean there's going to be a winner (read: I'm not forcing myself to pick one of your selections.). I know, how bitchy of me, but really, it's shoes people and you know how important they are. I don't have the funds to go buying them willy-nilly.

Guidelines/Suggestions
1. Black or really kickass red or brown that can go with multiple outfits

2. Heel, but not too too stiletto-y high or too lame-ass low.  The larger the circumference of the heel the better; no matter how tall/short, the teeny ones always land me on my bottom.

3. Comfortable - this is crucial as I am on my feet a lot running around court dealing with difficult people and my feet need to be happy.

4. No pointy toes. Repeat after me. No pointy toes. They may be great for others, but they are simply not my style.

5. Should not cost more than $150. I mean, you can submit them if you like, but it's highly unlikely I'll buy anything that costs more than that right now.

6. I tend to like Mary-jane styles - I'm comfortable with it, but I am interested in branching or finding a new take on it.

7. Funky and interesting is good, just remember the event: it's court, so I can't go bounding in with fish in my platforms.

8. Closed-toe is probably better, just in case hell freezes over and I have to wear the dreaded panty hose. However, my current work fave is a peep-toe, so don't abide too strictly by the whole closed-toe idea.

9. Enter as many times as you want.

10. Vegetarian/eco-friendly is NOT a requirement because, trust me, I know how impossible it is to find cute shoes fitting that bill - that's why you get extra prize if you can perform that miracle.

11. What else? I have no idea. Check the comments and back here for updates. Please feel free to ask questions and I'll try to answer.

12. DUH.  I wear 7.5 or 8, maybe a 7 if they run big.

13. DUH SQUARED. Please link to your submissions in the comments.  In order to win a prize, you should submit specific shoes and not just websites (and uh, please don't try to circumvent that rule by linking every. single. shoe. from a website. Not cool.).

Why are you still reading this post? Get shopping!!

Superstar! 8:01 AM

This post would be a lot longer if it were a list of things I'm bad at, but what is an attorney good for if not turning shit around and making it smell a little nicer? 

* I guess that would be number one - Spin.  In my personal and professional life, I'm pretty good at turning things around and using them to my benefit.  I wouldn't necessarily recommend it in all arguments with your significant other, but in the courtroom, it's the ultimate.

* Kissing boys - This is more of a quantitative statement than a qualitative one.  I mean, yes, numerous men have complimented my technique, but I just figure that's a line men always throw out in an effort to get into your pants.  What I mean is that if I want to kiss a boy (or boys), I will.  I learned this skill while studying and living abroad in England.  My flatmates even gave me a "Snog Monster" award because I kissed three Italian men in one night. 

* Watching movies - I can watch a ridiculous amount of movies back-to-back.  Once I even watched three in a row at the movie theatre.  It was mid-afternoon when we went in, completely dark when we finally left.

* Sizing people up - Within ten minutes of meeting someone, I can get a pretty good feel for his/her character and, more importantly, whether I like him/her.  It's not in a judgmental way, because despite first impressions, I do leave an open mind for further development.  I've just found that 99 times out of 100, my initial instinct is dead on. 

* Baking cookies - I know Megan and Pen are the recipe queens at the bar, but trust me, I can bake the hell out of some cookies, always from scratch.  I must give credit where credit is due - Andi taught me one of my secrets back in our days of cookie dough and boy talk (it's all in the moment you take it out of the oven).  The other secrets, I'll never tell, but I'll challenge anyone to a cookie duel!

So Disgusting, I Obviously Have to Try It 8:00 PM

I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen a Jack-O-Lantern picture that made me shiver. It’s the rats, it’s totally the rats. Can’t stand ‘em, think they’re completely creepy—which is why it’s perfect for Halloween, no?

This idea brought to you by Martha Stewart.

I don't mean to brag, but... 9:28 AM

It's the weekly special, so maybe I do mean to brag, a little...

My #1 hidden talent is sleeping. I can sleep anywhere, anytime. From cat naps to a full night's rest, I pride myself in my ability to pass out the moment my head hits the pillow. I can sleep curled up in a coach seat on an airplane, on the sofa...hell, once, in a previous job, I actually crawled under my desk and slept at work.

I can shop online like it's my JOB. I know all the great bargain sites (bluefly, overstock, you name it), and I can buy my fall wardrobe while on a conference call with my boss. I guess some people would call this multi-tasking; I call it "shoppin' like a PRO."

Evidenced by my late submission this week to my OWN weekly special, I'm a damn good procrastinator. And, no matter how long I wait to get something done, I always come through in the clutch. In fact, I don't know that I know how to get something done early. I feel like my best work is done under pressure.

I am a really, really great rationalizer. Need to feel better about eating that entire bag of Doritos? Come to me and I'll tell you that you just got your calcium intake for the day because of the cheese, thus fighting osteoporosis. Feel bad about slacking at work? I'll explain that the best employees know how to say "no" at times. Drank too much last night and you're hung over? I'll blame the bartender for ya. (Okay, yeah...some would call this little talent "enabling," but I'd tell you that I'm just here to support my friends.)

So, there ya go. Tempe, the procrastinating, rationalizing, nap-taking online shopping whiz.

Admit it, you're jealous. :)

Honk! 6:41 AM

Excuse me while I toot my own horn a bit. Hey, it's this week's assignment, ok?

My hidden talents include:
*I can take naps like a pro. At the drop of a hat. A lot of people have trouble napping in the middle of the day because there's so much else to do. Me? Um, not so much. I actually have trouble getting to sleep at night at times because my mind is so wired, but during the day. . ahhhh.

*Tossing things like pacifiers or snacks back to the carrier while driving and keeping eyes on road and one hand on wheel. I have perfected my technique over 2 kids and 2+ years.

*I have mad skills at collecting lots of shit. Piles, even. Very Important Shit that I NEED and Must Have in my Life. Everything has a pile, er, place.

*I can pop just about every joint in my body. I routinely twist my wrists and back; pull my thumbs and big toes; press fingers, roll neck ankles, and shoulder; stretch out knees, flex hips. It's fairly compulsive and not very pleasant or attractive. *sigh.

*I take quick showers. I don't get what all the fuss is about. . you get in, wash, rinse, get out. I have a system and am efficient: shampoo, rinse, conditioner in while I wash body and face, then rinse. done. If there's shaving, it's done quickly as well. No dilly-dallying.

Brag Sheet 10:38 PM

One of the things I'm most talented at is self-deprecation, but that's a drink for another day. The truth is, I've got a few things that I'm pretty good at when it comes down to it:

* Flirting - I admit it. I know how to flirt. That's not to say that I'm always successful with it, but I can generally gauge what'll push a guy's buttons. The eyes, the gesture, the subtle touch on the arm. I've got it down.

* Fruit selection - Without fail, I can select the best of the bunch - particularly watermelon and cantaloupe. To the point that I've been asked by strangers to pick fruit for them when they see my certainty about my own choice.

* Bargain hunting - I rarely ever pay full price for an item. I've got to really love it to cough up the big bucks. That being said, I'm remarkably talented at pulling gems off the sales rack - including the Max Azria top I recently snagged for $4.

* Photography - Okay, granted, some of the talent lies in the camera, and I'm lucky that my parents gifted me with a great one. But, there's something in the eye, too. In composition and timing. I'm no Annie Lebowitz, but I could give Peter Parker a run for his money.

* Laughing - I know this isn't really a talent, nor is it hidden. But I've noticed lately that there are some people who really can't laugh. It's like they don't know how to let go and let the laughter out, and I am certainly able to throw back my head and laugh from the belly when I'm amused.

* Killing television shows

* Music & Movies - I am almost savant-like in my ability to tell you the name and artist of a song or the actor and movie title. With music, it's not unusual for me to know the release date and time of year it came out.

* Shoes - I can rock some shoes, bitches.

Countdown to Grey's 9:33 PM

I'm pretty sure a majority of the Smartini bartenders are huge fans of Grey's Anatomy, and are eagerly anticipating the season premier this Thursday. I, for one, was derided for "coming into work too chipper on a Monday morning" by my boss after my co-worker reminded me that this week was ABC's premier week.

In honor of such a fantastic occasion, I present this "preview" which aired on Jimmy Kimmel-something or other during the Emmy's last night.

Modesty Isn't My Thing 7:11 AM

So I'm sure y'all won't be surprised at all when I tell you that I've got hidden talent. Not one bit, right?! Because you already know that I can sing. And you've already seen proof positive that I can follow a recipe. But did you know that I am also really good at:

* arranging things so that lots of stuff can fit in a small space well- Luggage and crowded bedrooms are my forte, but I'll take on any Too-Much-Shit-In-Too-Small-Of-A-Space challenge. When my grandmama moved into a smaller apartment I arranged her furniture in such a way that they used her apartment as the 'show' apartment for future renters. Look at me!

* making an ass of myself and kind of not care- See Karaoke, above. Call it what you want, but I like to tell myself that this trait can make me a hell of a fun girl to hang out with. This is what I tell myself.

* playing devil's advocate- Sometimes to the point of being maddening, but I typically think the whole way around a situation before settling on an opinion or action. TYPICALLY. (Unless I'm hormonal, and then all bets are off and there's just no talking sense into me!)

* rationalizing just why it's ok for me to eat junk food, or even better, to NOT work out- Pretty self explainatory, really.

* dancing- No, not really, but since I'm so good at looking foolish without a care, I dance like there's no one watching. Ok, that's a lie. I totally dance like someone is watching and they just. can't. get. enough. So there. I said it.

* tooting my own horn- OBVIOUSLY.

I'm hoping that I don't look like this on the dance floor, but I'll leave it up to Niki to verify. (I think she's the only other Smartini girl to have witness my dancing goodness!)

We're kind of a big deal 8:00 AM

Our Weekly Special this week is a fun one.

You see, each of the barmaids here at Smartini...well, we kinda rock.

We have all KINDS of hidden talents that go beyond pouring y'all drinks and keeping your beer cold. One of us might be a not-yet-discovered Oprah or Dr. Phil. Another one of us might give Martha Stewart a run for her money (when she refers to the "it" in "It's a Good Thing," she means us). Is there another one out here that sings in the shower, but belongs on American Idol? Tune in to find out!

wtf-EVER 5:15 PM

Look, I love The Hills just as much as any other girl looking for some vapid entertainment. And thus far I haven’t even so much as rolled my eyes at any of Lauren’s product deals that have resulted from her role on the show. Her clothing line, her phone commercials—whatever. She knows how to rake it in, even though, being born into money, she didn’t need an extra dime to begin with. 

But I draw the line at a 3-book publishing deal for a young-adult series based on her experience becoming a reality star.

THAT IS IT! IT’S TOO MUCH. I CAN’T HANDLE IT!

I will be drinking several glass of something mind-numbing tonight while picturing LC holed up in her big fat house that she owns at the age of 22, penning a YA novel that has been guaranteed to publish. And likely be a bestseller. 

Fin: The conclusion of Debbie, Sally, Brad, Julia, Dr. Phil, Salt n Peppper Beard, Brenda, Sylvia and all the rest. 4:35 PM

Whose bright idea was this anyway?

THE BEGINNING: When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her.

MEGAN: But what the hell did Sylvia know, she thought, since the woman was obviously wacked out and referred to men in a bar as pirates on a ship? Troublesome past be damned, Debbie's drinks were telling her, go for the hot goodness of the younger men! As she left to investigate the scene out on the back patio, Debbie grabbed the arm of her closest friend and partner in Cougar crime, Sally, and the two sauntered outside to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. Once there, the Cougaristas quickly pounced on an open table by the large dance floor, ordered more drinks and began to survey their hot bodied options. Debbie and Sally both agreed that observing them on the dance floor was a good indicator of who would best suit their needs.

ASHLEY: There was the guy - that guy that you can spot a mile away - who's fabulous in every way and knows it. Even his beer is designer. And then there was his sidekick - the slightly disproportionate best friend whose herky-jerky dance moves told them everything they needed to know. Simultaneously they called the first guy. And seeing as how they both couldn't have him, Debbie and Sally did what any respectable women in their situation would do: ordered a vodka shot and played rock-scissors-paper for him.

TEMPE: "Best two out of three?" Sally asked Debbie, after her rock was crushed by Debbie's scissors. She could not lose Brad to this hussy over a game of rochambeau. She just couldn't. "Sure, why not?" Debbie replied, pouring another shot for her opponent, fully expecting to to win back her ex-husband, no matter how she had to do it. After all, she lost this one love of her life - now her ex-husband - in an arm-wrestling match to their old friend Brenda a few years back; rock-scissors-paper was child's play compared to that day.

ANDI: So, she holds out her hands and taps out the familiar rhythm, landing with her two fingers extended. Ha! What a fool opponent, choosing weak paper. There is nothing like the triumphant feeling when betting correctly and winning; her heart sores. Then, just as quickly, it sinks again, realizing what she's truly "won." Now, she must be the one to step in and confront Julia; trying to convince her to face her demons (something she herself has been avoiding for years) was going to take one hell of an intervention.

PEN: She began plans for the intervention by googling terms pertinent to their specific situation:
“intervention”
“intervention protocol”
“how to stage an intervention”
“candy addictions”
“addicted to M&Ms”
“couch potato”
“reality TV fanaticism”
“prying individual from TV with crowbar”
“SWAT team backup”
“hiring private SWAT team”
“couch potato rehabilitation programs” with Advanced Search Option: “forced admission.”
And then it occurred to her that, considering the nature of Julia’s “problems,” the only thing that might get through to the girl was TV itself. She googled one last phrase:
“be guest on Dr. Phil show.”

Scoring a spot on the hardball-playing TV counselor’s show was the answer to their problems, she was sure of it. If necessary, she would hunt down a Hollywood phone book and call up the loudmouthed old baldy himself to make it happen: it was time for Julia to Get Real.

THE END OF THE AFFAIR (My contribution):
Before she could formulate a plan, her cell phone rang. For a brief moment she thought, "who's calling me NOW?" before her stomach sank as she realized what she had done. With all this nonsense about Julia, she had completely forgotten about The Syndicate. They would call until she answered, and if she did not, then innocent lives would fall as collateral damage; she had no choice.

She flipped open her phone. . .a bright flash, a silent scream, and she vanished forever.

Three little letters, girls: E-A-T! 12:55 AM

Couldn't agree more - ok, well, so far, I haven't seen them getting more skinny, they started out pretty bony to begin with. In fact, I believe Niki pointed this out in the very first recap. Perhaps they should investigate the new craze: the Michael Phelps diet. ;)

Tainted 12:30 AM

This is a major, serious WTFriday story. very, very sad. Especially, to know something similar had happened before in 2004! Not on this scale, but wow. That people would knowingly mess with something to inflate a product that impacts so many lives, is just unbelievable.

Paging Dr. Phil… 7:30 AM

So here’s how this wacky story got started.

THE BEGINNING: When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her.

MEGAN’S TURN: But what the hell did Sylvia know, she thought, since the woman was obviously wacked out and referred to men in a bar as pirates on a ship? Troublesome past be damned, Debbie's drinks were telling her, go for the hot goodness of the younger men! As she left to investigate the scene out on the back patio, Debbie grabbed the arm of her closest friend and partner in Cougar crime, Sally, and the two sauntered outside to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. Once there, the Cougaristas quickly pounced on an open table by the large dance floor, ordered more drinks and began to survey their hot bodied options. Debbie and Sally both agreed that observing them on the dance floor was a good indicator of who would best suit their needs.

ASHLEY’S TURN: There was the guy - that guy that you can spot a mile away - who's fabulous in every way and knows it. Even his beer is designer. And then there was his sidekick - the slightly disproportionate best friend whose herky-jerky dance moves told them everything they needed to know. Simultaneously they called the first guy. And seeing as how they both couldn't have him, Debbie and Sally did what any respectable women in their situation would do: ordered a vodka shot and played rock-scissors-paper for him.

TEMPE’S TURN: "Best two out of three?" Sally asked Debbie, after her rock was crushed by Debbie's scissors. She could not lose Brad to this hussy over a game of rochambeau. She just couldn't. "Sure, why not?" Debbie replied, pouring another shot for her opponent, fully expecting to to win back her ex-husband, no matter how she had to do it. After all, she lost this one love of her life - now her ex-husband - in an arm-wrestling match to their old friend Brenda a few years back; rock-scissors-paper was child's play compared to that day.

ANDI’S TURN: So, she holds out her hands and taps out the familiar rhythm, landing with her two fingers extended. Ha! What a fool opponent, choosing weak paper. There is nothing like the triumphant feeling when betting correctly and winning; her heart sores. Then, just as quickly, it sinks again, realizing what she's truly "won." Now, she must be the one to step in and confront Julia; trying to convince her to face her demons (something she herself has been avoiding for years) was going to take one hell of an intervention.

MY TURN!: She began plans for the intervention by googling terms pertinent to their specific situation:

“intervention”

“intervention protocol”

“how to stage an intervention”

“candy addictions”

“addicted to M&Ms”

“couch potato”

“reality TV fanaticism”

“prying individual from TV with crowbar”

“SWAT team backup”

“hiring private SWAT team”

“couch potato rehabilitation programs” with Advanced Search Option: “forced admission.”

And then it occurred to her that, considering the nature of Julia’s “problems,” the only thing that might get through to the girl was TV itself. She googled one last phrase:

“be guest on Dr. Phil show.”

Scoring a spot on the hardball-playing TV counselor’s show was the answer to their problems, she was sure of it. If necessary, she would hunt down a Hollywood phone book and call up the loudmouthed old baldy himself to make it happen: it was time for Julia to Get Real.

Thursday Tickler: Some Things Are Not As They Appear 7:11 AM

As I was going through some old files on my computer yesterday, I came across this video. I know it's old and you have probably seen it a few thousand times, but I can't stop myself. This is equally awful and good, and really, really makes you feel humiliated for this poor dude, grinning like a fool.

Just for you, Sheila:



Get your guns up?

Check Out This Muffin Top 7:43 AM

(Aawww, here you are thinking I was going to show you pictures of some celeb's, or even my!, muffin top, when really I'm talking about breakfast muffins. Sorry to disappoint, but would it help if I told you that the other day my four year old told me I was making her hair muffy as I combed it? Where in the hell that came from, I don't know, but I definitely laughed like a sixth grader.)

I'm going to need you to go ahead and make these Banana Crumb Muffins.

Because when you do you will want to kiss me and say all kinds of nice things and possibly even send me gifts? Gifts would be nice.

These are really some of the best muffins you can make at home, and I'm not the only one who thinks so. About 2800+ people over at All Recipes, one of my very favorite sites on the web, agree with me. Actually, this is the number one recipe at AR, so we all can't be wrong, right?

The recipe is really basic but they come out of the oven looking like they are from some fancy schmancy deli, and they taste even better than they look. So good, in fact, that my husband ate FOUR of them this morning for breakfast. Um, yeah, they're that good. (He has even decreed them his very favorite muffin of all time ever to infinity.)

As usual, I made slight adjustments to the original recipe, but nothing too drastic.

Banana Crumb Muffins

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 bananas, mashed
3/4 cup white sugar
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/3 cup butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
walnuts to taste, optional
chocolate chips to taste, optional

Crumb topping:

1/3 cup packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon butter

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly grease 10 muffin cups, or line with muffin papers.

In a large bowl, mix together 1 1/2 cups flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt and cinnamon. In another bowl, beat together bananas, sugar, egg, melted butter, vanilla and any optional nuts/chocolate chips.

Stir the banana mixture into the flour mixture just until moistened. Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups.

In a small bowl, mix together dry ingredients of crumb topping. Cut in 1 tablespoon butter until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Sprinkle topping over muffins. Bake in preheated oven for 18 to 20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into center of a muffin comes out clean.

Easy as pie, or muffin, as it were. Impress your friends, neighbors and coworkers when you whip these up for the very next boyfriend saga, neighborhood brunch or when you need to do some serious kissing up. Now, about those gifts...

Debbie & Sally who?! 7:42 AM

Confused? You will be, so you better read this to understand what's going on this week at the bar.

When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her. But what the hell did Sylvia know, she thought, since the woman was obviously wacked out and referred to men in a bar as pirates on a ship? Troublesome past be damned, Debbie's drinks were telling her, go for the hot goodness of the younger men! As she left to investigate the scene out on the back patio, Debbie grabbed the arm of her closest friend and partner in Cougar crime, Sally, and the two sauntered outside to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. Once there, the Cougaristas quickly pounced on an open table by the large dance floor, ordered more drinks and began to survey their hot bodied options. Debbie and Sally both agreed that observing them on the dance floor was a good indicator of who would best suit their needs.There was the guy - that guy that you can spot a mile away - who's fabulous in every way and knows it. Even his beer is designer. And then there was his sidekick - the slightly disproportionate best friend whose herky-jerky dance moves told them everything they needed to know. Simultaneously they called the first guy. And seeing as how they both couldn't have him, Debbie and Sally did what any respectable women in their situation would do: ordered a vodka shot and played rock-scissors-paper for him."Best two out of three?" Sally asked Debbie, after her rock was crushed by Debbie's scissors. She could not lose Brad to this hussy over a game of rochambeau. She just couldn't. "Sure, why not?" Debbie replied, pouring another shot for her opponent, fully expecting to to win back her ex-husband, no matter how she had to do it. After all, she lost this one love of her life - now her ex-husband - in an arm-wrestling match to their old friend Brenda a few years back; rock-scissors-paper was child's play compared to that day.

So, she holds out her hands and taps out the familiar rhythm, landing with her two fingers extended. Ha! What a fool opponent, choosing weak paper. There is nothing like the triumphant feeling when betting correctly and winning; her heart sores. Then, just as quickly, it sinks again, realizing what she's truly "won." Now, she must be the one to step in and confront Julia; trying to convince her to face her demons (something she herself has been avoiding for years) was going to take one hell of an intervention.

A Double Dose of Debbie & Sally 9:30 AM

When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her. But what the hell did Sylvia know, she thought, since the woman was obviously wacked out and referred to men in a bar as pirates on a ship? Troublesome past be damned, Debbie's drinks were telling her, go for the hot goodness of the younger men! As she left to investigate the scene out on the back patio, Debbie grabbed the arm of her closest friend and partner in Cougar crime, Sally, and the two sauntered outside to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. Once there, the Cougaristas quickly pounced on an open table by the large dance floor, ordered more drinks and began to survey their hot bodied options. Debbie and Sally both agreed that observing them on the dance floor was a good indicator of who would best suit their needs.There was the guy - that guy that you can spot a mile away - who's fabulous in every way and knows it. Even his beer is designer. And then there was his sidekick - the slightly disproportionate best friend whose herky-jerky dance moves told them everything they needed to know. Simultaneously they called the first guy. And seeing as how they both couldn't have him, Debbie and Sally did what any respectable women in their situation would do: ordered a vodka shot and played rock-scissors-paper for him.

"Best two out of three?" Sally asked Debbie, after her rock was crushed by Debbie's scissors. She could not lose Brad to this hussy over a game of rochambeau. She just couldn't.

"Sure, why not?" Debbie replied, pouring another shot for her opponent, fully expecting to to win back her ex-husband, no matter how she had to do it. After all, she lost this one love of her life - now her ex-husband - in an arm-wrestling match to their old friend Brenda a few years back; rock-scissors-paper was child's play compared to that day.

Debbie & Sally & the Piratical Possibilities 6:31 AM

When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her. But what the hell did Sylvia know, she thought, since the woman was obviously wacked out and referred to men in a bar as pirates on a ship? Troublesome past be damned, Debbie's drinks were telling her, go for the hot goodness of the younger men! As she left to investigate the scene out on the back patio, Debbie grabbed the arm of her closest friend and partner in Cougar crime, Sally, and the two sauntered outside to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. Once there, the Cougaristas quickly pounced on an open table by the large dance floor, ordered more drinks and began to survey their hot bodied options. Debbie and Sally both agreed that observing them on the dance floor was a good indicator of who would best suit their needs.

There was the guy - that guy that you can spot a mile away - who's fabulous in every way and knows it. Even his beer is designer. And then there was his sidekick - the slightly disproportionate best friend whose herky-jerky dance moves told them everything they needed to know. Simultaneously they called the first guy. And seeing as how they both couldn't have him, Debbie and Sally did what any respectable women in their situation would do: ordered a vodka shot and played rock-scissors-paper for him.

Dumbledore on SNL 11:09 PM

Not as good as the Tina Fey/Sarah Palin and Amy Poehler/Hillary Clinton skit, but a couple of laugh out loud moments:

Barmaids Gone Wild 6:47 PM

I am dating.

This sentence is exceptionally strange for me to write, because, somehow, I've never really done it before now. I mean, yes, I've had boyfriends. But almost all of them matriculated from established relationships that one day slid over the line between platonic and, well, not platonic.

But now, I find myself dating. All the awkward moments and tense silences and taking another drink to keep yourself from saying something stupid. So for your amusement, here are the highlights of my first four dates with The Boy:

First Date: Just before the date, I'm going to happy hour with my co-workers. I head to the bathroom to change clothes, and when I come back, I have been locked out of the office - sans cell phone. Long story short, I end up walking to the bar in the blistering afternoon heat, wringing with sweat by the time I get there, and smelling slightly like the boys' locker room by the time I get to dinner with The Boy.

Second Date: We have lunch at one of my favorite lunch spots. I get so nervous I can hardly eat - and I can always eat. I end up walking out with a take home box. There's this really awkward parting of the ways: us, standing on a busy street corner in downtown and fumbling through what the next date might be and then the one-armed hug because I'm carrying the leftovers.

Third Date: I lose my car. No. Really. I lose my car in downtown. It takes us 30 minutes and about 16 blocks (some of them in circles) to locate my car.

Fourth Date: We hike some easy trails at a local park-type place. I want to see the river. So we hike forever and then come out on the bank, but there's no easy way to get to the water. We slide down a muddy slope and wade in the shallows. What we didn't take into consideration? Getting back up the muddy slope. Did I mention I was wearing flip-flops? I managed to grab hold of what I thought was a sturdy branch and pull up before my feet totally slipped against my sodden shoes and the branch broke and I pitched backwards - ass-first - into his waiting hands.

Debbie Doesn't Do Pirates 6:35 AM

Getting this week's Weekly Special kicked off in fine style is the totally effed up sentence that starts it all:

When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her. But what the hell did Sylvia know, she thought, since the woman was obviously wacked out and referred to men in a bar as pirates on a ship? Troublesome past be damned, Debbie's drinks were telling her, go for the hot goodness of the younger men! As she left to investigate the scene out on the back patio, Debbie grabbed the arm of her closest friend and partner in Cougar crime, Sally, and the two sauntered outside to the beat of the music that was playing loudly. Once there, the Cougaristas quickly pounced on an open table by the large dance floor, ordered more drinks and began to survey their hot bodied options. Debbie and Sally both agreed that observing them on the dance floor was a good indicator of who would best suit their needs.

I'm a Waffle Ho 6:00 AM

Finally! My camera arrived via the good ol' USPS and now I can photographically confirm that I did in fact complete the Waffle House Challenge as laid out to me by Molly.

And it was slide-down-your-gullet-good, in that greasy way that only Waffle House can be. Mmm... Scattered and covered, with cheese eggs...

I briefly thought about taking baby Ashley in with us on our foray to the WaHo. She didn't have shoes on and doesn't have any teeth, so I thought she might fit in pretty well. That reminds me! On a slightly drunk night several years ago I was privy to see one of the nastiest sights I had come across in a great while: a girl coming out of the Waffle House bathroom, barefoot.

I KNOW.

Mixology 9:40 PM

This week at the bar, we're all throwing in our own ingredients in the hopes of serving up one fantastic concoction. We're playing a little game of Writing Round Robin. The rules are essentially as follows:

1. An "inspirational" sentence gets the party started.

2. Barmaid #1 reads inspirational sentence, and writes 5 sentences to follow it in story progression.

3. Barmaid #2 reads only the last sentence of Barmaid #1's paragraph and springboards off that with 5 more lines of the story.

4. Barmaid #3 reads only the last sentence of Barmaid #2's, and adds 5 more lines. And so on.

Don't worry, we've engaged in some very high-tech confidentiality mumb-jumbo to ensure that each Barmaid only has knowledge of the last sentence before adding her piece of the puzzle.

We are either about to make Smartini history with one bad ass, hysterical short story or confuse the hell out of all our readers and have your head spinning like Pen after the Green Party.

Without further ado, here is our kick-off sentence:

When Debbie decided that Salt ‘n’ Pepper Beard was the most attractive pirate on the ship, she realized that choosing him was due to the advice of Sylvia, her new Life Coach, to be realistic about her own age and to open herself up to romance where it lay, unlike the troublesome past where she would have wished that only the younger pirates take advantage of her.

(Sentence courtesy of Jim Guigli who was a contestant in the 2006 Bulwer-Lytton Literary Parody Contest - which seeks to find the worst deliberately bad opening sentence to a novel - in other words, he meant for it to be awful and awesome all at once.)

WTFriday: Ticket to 1989 Now Available at Target 2:00 PM

Was out shopping this morning, and noticed these pants on the racks at Target:

I promptly ran screaming in terror from the clothing department.

They are referred to online as “Bio Wash” jeans. Um, you mean STONEWASHED? There are a lot of things I’d rather not remember about 6th and 7th grade, and these jeans are one of them. The legs are even tapered, for god’s sake. Will the next version have ankle zippers as well? Wait—holy shit, I just noticed there are buttons on the ankles if you click on one of the close-ups. Also available in “gray” and “java,” otherwise known as “PUKE.”

The picture might not do them justice, but trust me, they are that bad, and totally 1989. 

Oh, it sure ain’t easy. 9:30 PM

Once upon a time, in a town called Chi, a fair and somewhat naive lass named Penelope lived in a tall tower on the corner of Madison and State streets, on a year-long quest to earn something like a writing degree. It was an election year. Two Presidential elections ago, to be exact, and the grand majority of Chi-town peeps felt GREEN about the outcome. They pondered packing up and moving to Canada, and a long series of other idle, empty threats. Ultimately, instead, they decided to throw a party. A GREEN party, it was called, and it was hosted by mine and m’s lovely, laid-back, funny-and-epitomizing-awesomeness teacher. The GREEN party invitation was printed on GREEN paper and explained that since (some people) were so GREEN about politics that we should all wear GREEN clothing and gather at our teacher’s home to eat GREEN food and drink GREEN drinks. And so we did. I wore a GREEN shirt from Old Navy, along with some GREEN socks, hopped on the train and maybe a bus? out to the fabulous apartment of our teacher, where the dining room chairs were all artfully mismatched, the living room walls painted orange like Kool-Aid, the hardwood floors edged with twinkle lights and the walls showcasing dresses from another time. We ate fried GREEN tomatoes and catfish (not GREEN? or was it) and some horrible GREEN Jell-o mold thing that involved horseradish. I tell no lies. And some other GREEN things, I’m sure. And I don’t believe my drink was GREEN, but I can tell you that the bottle sure was GREEN, and this glass of mine magically refilled with not-expensive champagne every time I turned my head. I looked back, and there it was, full again. Sparkles. Something about drinking the stars. M, I believe, drank some horrible gin and tonic thing that she likes, and at some terrible, fateful point, our teacher mixed us up some margaritas on the rocks. I drank. We all danced. And somewhere in the middle of this dance, I’m now losing track, I stumbled out to the freezing cold November porch and slumped in a chair, passed out and vomited all over myself.

I was GREEN.

And I can only tell you bits and pieces of moments I’d rather not remember from there. Something about being led to the bathroom to continue my vomiting? Having to change out of my now-nastified GREEN shirt and borrow another from our lovely teacher? Dragged down to the street and into a taxicab with poor m (m, holy crap! we’re still friends?) and our other friend from class to the tower at Madison and State, stumbling up to my room to vomit at least one more time into the kitchen sink and settle in for a night of true misery… and realizing that Who Wants to Be a Millionaire was on, which yes, ladies and gentlemen came on around 8PM—on the East Coast. In the Midwest, it was just after 7. On a Sunday night.

No applause necessary, no applause as I take my bow.

By the way, my lovely teacher did call the fair, undeniably naive, and beyond mortified Penelope up in her tower the next day to apologize (whatever for?! oh, the Margarita of Death—but still), and had her GREEN shirt dry cleaned and promptly returned, although I could never bring myself to wear it ever again.

The End.

my (friend's) embarrassing drunken story 10:21 AM

Prologue

I don’t get drunk, y'all. Really, I don’t. This story is about a friend, okay? So don’t judge me…I am not the star of this story.

Story of My Friend (not me) and her Stoli Problem

My friend, see, has a weakness for Stoli Vanilla vodka and orange juice. Tastes just like a creamsicle, she tells me. And apparently, according to my friend, one drink is great, but six…well, that’s just a par-tay.

Once upon a time, this friend of mine (remember, this is NOT me) went to Atlanta to visit a guy friend of hers. We’ll call him a friend with benefits (FWB) on the verge of becoming a boyfriend.

She goes to dinner with FWB – a real, authentic date. They laugh, they talk, she doesn’t go near those creamsicle-tasting disaster cocktails. They have some wine, and end the night with a sweet kiss. She sleeps in his guest room (that part I can attest to), and she goes on with her weekend the next day.

The next night, however, the Stoli Vanilla and the OJ, well, it flowed freely. At a fundraiser for her boss in Buckhead. She drank toooo much, this friend of mine. And she did what any stupid drunk girl would do after six of these disaster drinks.

She drunk-dialed the boy.

Except boy did not answer. So she drunk dialed him again.

And again…and…well, you get the point.

11:30 pm. My friend hits her ceiling for drinking. But she does not, unfortunately, hit the stopping point for drunk dialing. And no one tried to take her phone away. Which was what this girl really needed…someone to stop her from herself.

But no one did.

So…she hopped in a cab, rode to Brookhaven, moved beyond obsessive drunk dialing, and made a house call. (I believe you’d call this a booty call. But I wouldn’t know, see, because this is a friend, remember??)

My friend knocks on FWB’s door. No answer. She calls FWB for the fifteenth time that evening. (It’s probably morning by now, my friend reasons, so the number of calls are reset to account for the new 24 hour period).

No answer.

So, my friend did what any reasonable girl with a fifth of Stolichnaya in her body would do at 12:15 in the morning.

She asked the security guard (who happened to be approaching her, rather apprehensively) for help.

And, instead of arresting her for trespassing, the security guard does help her. By hoisting her up ten feet to the back balcony of FWB’s apartment, cheerleader-style.

My friend finally gets into the house and scares the living shit out of FWB. And gets no benefits that morning.

And wakes up with the worst hangover of her life the next morning, and enough embarrassment to last her for a good ten years.

Epilogue

Friend and FWB are still friends. They are both married (to other people, that is), and get a chuckle out of this story on a more than annual basis.

I’d like to say that I've sworn off Stoli Vanilla and OJ, but sadly, I haven't.

I mean, hold on...I meant my FRIEND has not sworn them off. Really, I don't get drunk, honest! :)

Beer before liquor, never sicker 8:42 AM

I might have a few sordid drunken tales. . .

*wet t-shirt contest: check. St. Patty's Day at Bennigan's!

*nasty, dirty places: check. Why is it drinking leads you to some of the dirtiest places on the planet?

*compromising positions: check, both my own and multiple others, but they won't be reported here!

*bodily fluids: check, check and check! [almost] getting peed on by an even more drunk guy who just sat up in the bed and started relieving himself off the side. . .while we were sleeping on the floor!!! Then, see compromising positions above and throwing up below for the other two.

*throwing up: numerous times I've been the hair holder and the hair holdee. Including once in the stands at a Nascar race. eww, that was bad. Much like fellow barmaid, Ashley, I learned mixing types of alcohol is not a good idea. I'd had my normal liquor, then decided to drink a beer?! (I don't drink beer) AND then, clearly inebriated, tried to smoke a cigarette; something I've done a mere handful of times in my life and the combination was not so good. Especially for the folks sitting around us. Sometimes the bleachers are sort of open and you can kind of wash things down. Not so much in this situation. Not good.

*climbing under a bathroom stall to help a much inebriated friend unlock the door! Who was then carried over Hubby's shoulders back to the car, even passing the bike cop.

*Building up the hype (that they were actually feuding) for a wrestling "cage match" between Hubby and his Best Friend. Drinking always leads to scheming, right? Clever, brilliant schemes, of course.

*driving a friend (acquaintance?) over an hour to meet her parents because she and her boyfriend got in that big of a fight. Which might or might not have started from other girls skinny dipping and handstands in the lake.

*food fight involving turkey against the sliding glass door (Megan might recall; she was none too happy as it was her and Niki's door).

My favorite (? best?) story, however, doesn't directly involve my own drunkenness, but I was a participant in the events, so it's still my story. Hubby's birthday is the week after our anniversary in May. The year we got married, we headed back to Athens to celebrate his birthday with friends. I don't know if he was rebelling against getting hitched or if he was just used to this lifestyle more than I realized (I'd been graduated and working in the "real world" for a year. He'd just graduated in December and continued working at his job from college and was looking for a job up near me for when we married and he moved), but he really celebrated. I finally got him to leave and we were heading back to his Grandaddy's old house where he had lived during college. We had just pulled onto Loop 10, the by-pass, when he starts fumbling for the door/window saying he's going to be sick. So, I start to pull off and he manages to get the door open and rolls, mostly falls out (the car was nearly stopped) and down the hill. And then he's laying in the tall grass on the side of the by-pass, 30 ft below me screaming, "Owwww! Oh, God! It hurts! It hurts! Owwww!" And I'm just sitting in the car, crying, thinking he's dislocated his shoulder and I'm going to have to figure out how to pick up this man that is over a foot taller and a small person heavier and somehow get him back up the hill and into the car. .and possibly even take him to the hospital? He's just carrying on so. Then, I get him to tell me what hurts. And it's his finger! (I'm still laughing right now as I type this out) He'd landed on his ring finger (coincidence? I think not.) and hurt it. It did swell up and I know it hurt, but the way he was yelling, I thought it was much more serious. The next day, we were at his mama's house and he was standing at the sink and she suddenly exclaims, "my word, what did you do to your finger?" And I just couldn't contain myself. The silent giggles were making me shake, so she knew to keep inquiring. We still laugh about it from time to time.

The very next weekend, we found ourselves back in Athens and had one of our lowest, trailer-trashiest moments ever. We got into a big fight on the way back from our favorite dive: the Blind Pig, where you can take your own mugs for cheaper drinks, and as we don't drink beer, those mugs contain Margaritas. On the Rocks. Some low lights include: I back-handed him and bloodied his eye with my new rock. Before we got home, I make him stop and let me out of the car, right near 316 (a busy highway). I wedged myself between a big wooden sign and the chain link fence. There really wasn't enough room, but I just kind of ended up there and stayed for a bit - a vague sober part of my brain realizing it was safer than wandering the side of a busy highway - stewing and hiding out. Then, I came out and thought the car I saw was Hubby looking for me, so I flipped him the finger, but it turned out to be his sister. oops. And his mama was up by this point, too. Not a good moment for us. The next day, he and his mama were trying to figure out what the gooey stuff on the side of my car was and I had to laugh. Embarrassingly so. I'd thrown my honey mustard container from the leftovers I'd had in my lap at the car as he drove away when I'd jumped out. Even tipsy (plastered?), I had good aim, apparently (of course, a small SUV is a large target). We had our big heart to heart about how this was not what I had signed up for and I didn't know what he was rebelling against, but college days were over. We soon moved on to drinking wine like civilized folk and are all good 6 years later. Ok, well, we drink it out of a box, nearly every night, so maybe not fully civilized. But, we've moved up from the trailer. Sorry, Megs, no offense ;)

What's Left Behind 10:09 PM

Like the floor of a bar after closing time, I have a few things hanging around, seemingly left behind in the past week that has been a bit of a blur:

* Is it really fair that my Norton Anti Virus has decided to run the automatic scan of my whole freaking computer on a Friday night at 8? Who told Norton, the sorry bastard, to hijack my computer at a time which would be most painful to me? Not that this is a time when I generally do copious amounts of computer work, but rather a time when I should be OUT ON THE TOWN. But instead I am in front of my computer on a Friday night at 8 and there the little scanning status bar sits, mocking me and my loserness. Screw you, Norton.

* Recently SMILF recommended a few select wines, at my request, since the woman seems to know her vino. One of her suggestions was Sebeka Savignon Blanc, which I couldn't find at my local liquor store (the one that gives 20% off wine on Tuesdays!) but I did find another SB that had good reviews. My glass is already empty, just BEGGING to be refilled. And I think I'll indulge it (and me). PS: SMILF, and others, I can highly recommend Hopler's Gruner Veltliner. But beware, you may drink it like water like I did and find yourself creating a story fit for this week's Weekly Special. And your husband might be keen on you purchasing more, if you know what I mean.

* Kristin, from Give Me a Minute, I'll Come Up With Something, has been oh-so kind as to award us a Blog Love award! Thanks, Kristin! We've got all kinds of love for our readers too! Kristin sure was sweet to think that we could all agree on which 7 to choose as our favorite blogs, but alas the difficulties of working with a bunch of broads has rendered us incapable of spreading the wealth. Cat fights sure can get ugly, ESPECIALLY when we've got a trained fighter in the bunch. (And that Penelope, I hear she fights mean, pulling hair and throwing boob punches and all. I shudder to think of crossing her!)

* Speaking of Penelope... Since I have minded my P's and Q's and kept on the right side of her, she sent me a few books to read recently. One of those I mentioned here, because it was hi-larious, but one of the other ones is Memoirs of a Geisha. I know that this came out forever ago and so did the movie, but I had never investigated either one until Sunday night. And now I'm about to kill myself from reading it so fast and staying up until ONE THIRTY IN THE MORNING just to get through the 'good part,' which, unfortunately for me, is practically the whole damn thing. I had to just let it fall from my hands, it was that interesting.

* Maybe Molly, who has been contemplating geisha (and other whorish) type work as of late should read Memoirs? She does live in Nevada, after all, and has a killer English accent. Who wouldn't pay for that? Also, Molly is hosting her very own Fruitcake Friday in which she answers any and all questions that you ask her in a video post. Go see her and ask away! It's worth it just to hear her talk and act all uncomfortable when you ask *private* type questions! Oh, and last time she offered visual aides!

* So I posted that little poll about me doing the daily news... and 8 of you responded. Seven clicks for the 'your keyboard is a lucky piece of equipment' type response (ok, so maybe that wasn't exactly how it was worded). If the people demand it, I must oblige! But I might take breaks here and there, just to give myself some time off... Deal? Unless I start to feel like my Dem friends fight for the minority and underrepresented 2 voters who said 'take it or leave it' and I'll just tell those other 7 to be glad that they have the internet to look up the news themselves and my daily and I will proudly cease... :) (Come on now, Dems, don't be mad!)

* When will my camera ever get here after being left in Georgia? I have stuff that I need to share with the masses, people! USPS, get your shit together!

Well now, doesn't the bar look much better, now that I have cleaned up a bit?

I Blame Russians. And Potatoes. 6:09 AM

Since I've already divulged the drinking story that ended with me throwing up in the bushes outside of a hole-in-the-wall bar in Nowhere, South Carolina, I'm forced to consider other drinking stories of merit. And I have to say...there really aren't many. Not because I've stayed away from the sauce, but because I tend to get sauced in a controlled environment. And really, I'm actually quite contained when drunk. Just a bit more friendly. A bit more touchy. A bit inclined to talk and sing loudly. And a bit more prone to throw up than the average bear. Like...

...the time my first year of grad school that I had been dumped (on Christmas Eve, y'all), made a comeback from the depths of the longest, drunkest February ever, and returned to some degree of equilibrium in March until the week-long series of parties that accompanied the readings of many famous writers. A party - every. single. night.

On the very last night, when it seemed that everyone began the night roughly three to four drinks in from the alcohol still coursing through her system from the night before, there was a happy hour before the reading where I drank wine. And then we left the happy hour and went to the reading...where I drank more wine. But then, I decided that instead of drinking white wine by the tumbler-full at the party that I would try something different. Enter the six-pack of Smirnoff Ice.

Perhaps if I'd have had just one, I would've been okay. But in a very short time span, I drank five of them. Five - and I was carrying less poundage to absorb those babies. So by the time we headed from the party to the bar for a last-call night cap, I was swaying dreamily and talking to loud and flirting too much. Which is why I let a boy buy me a Heineken.

I think I finished the beer. I don't know. I can't remember. I do remember that we were in the upstairs of the bar when I told Kim I didn't feel well. And I sort of half remember going down the stairs and standing by the pool table and waiting for...someone? But I do remember stumbling into the ladies' room, bursting through the middle stall - the only one open - and proceeding to empty all 60 oz. of Smirnoff Ice from my body into one overflowing toilet.

God bless Kim. She had the compassion to grab my hair and literally hold me a hairsbreadth from God only knows what. I remember seeing that swirl of toilet paper lapping against the brim and heaving all over again and thinking, This is the grossest moment of my life.

The Key To A Good Time: It Isn't Keg Beer 7:11 AM

Me? Drunk? Never! (Ok, there was this one time back in 1999...)

Friday: Saunter into Ford dealership and purchase my very first vehicle all on my own. A 1994 Explorer Sport fit me perfectly, what with being a 20 year old college student, who happened to live way out in the boonies in the woods, and the soon the be owner of a large breed dog. Perfect!

Saturday evening: Hop into one day old Explorer Sport with my living in sin partner, husband to be, and head way into town to a friend's apartment for a little viewing party of the UGA v. Tennessee game.

Saturday night: Drink copious amounts of beer. Yell at the TV. Drink some more.

Saturday night: During half time, decide to invite all guests at the party to come to the parking lot and see my new ride. Drink more beer. After the game is over, take my beer, and party guests, back out to new ride so that we can all sit in the back and bullshit. Nothing says fun like sitting in the back of a SUV.

Saturday late night: Keep drinking. Keep bullshitting. Finally decide to close up shop, lock up Explorer and head inside for the night.

Sunday semi-morning: Awake with a nasty hangover, just want to go home. Look for keys to new ride. No keys to be found. Vaguely remember going to sit in my brand new to me Explorer and needing to unlock it. Scour ground within a 50 foot radius of new ride, all the while wincing in the holy shit bright as universally possible sunlight.

Sunday noonish: No keys outside, no keys inside. Everyone a touch bit hung over. Beg and plead for friend to drive us way the hell out to our house. Friend agrees. Leave my brand new to me, all washed and Armour Alled, haven't driven more than 50 miles much less made any sort of payment, Explorer in the parking lot of friend's apartment.

Sunday afternoon: Break into house. Feel rather stupid that I didn't ask for a SPARE KEY in my wheeling and dealing with the salesman only hours before. Feel even more stupid for getting nasty drunk and thus even more nasty hung over off of KEG BEER. First introduction to Party A. Vow to never drink keg beer again.

Monday morning: Husband to be gives me a ride to work. Call locksmith. Bum ride to apartment building parking lot from coworker to meet locksmith.

Monday afternoon: Locksmith is waiting. Asks am I SURE that I can't find my keys? Um, yes. Locksmith says ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE SURE? Take one more look, through the clear eyes of a sober, not hung over person and see the keys to my brand new to me, all washed and Armour Alled, haven't driven more than 50 miles much less made any sort of payment, Explorer sitting on the roof, begging for someone to steal it.

Locksmith: That'll be $35.

*So I know this isn't a really juicy GGW type story, but it goes to show that not only can you be really dumb while drunk, you can be equally dumb the morning after. As can be your friends and future husband.*

I'm A Big Girl, Tell Me What You Think 6:00 AM

This past week when I was all out of town and busy eating up the cuteness that is baby Anderson, I didn't do the daily dose of news and commentary. Did you notice?

Let me know what you think about those daily posts. Should I keep them up and give the patrons their daily dose of Smartini? Or should I let them quietly fade away and find other uses for my time? I could go either way, but seeing as how we are a democratic lot, I thought I would leave it up to you.

Let me have it, I can take it!





BTW: I just got word that one of regulars, Karen, just had her baby last week! Congratulations to Karen and her family on new baby Meghan! (Such a sweet girl, that Karen, naming her baby after me and all...) Be sure to toast Karen, I'm sure she will see and appreciate it, even through her new mom fog!