Now that it is no longer possible to stave off Christmas, I have taken to enjoying the holiday tradition of drinking egg nog. At present, I am taking the easy way out and simply adding Jameson to the stuff you buy at the supermarket, but I have visions of making my own nog from scratch. This is a little more difficult than one might think, though.
A few years ago, the child bride and I attempted to brew up Martha Stewart's egg nog (link is a bit wonky) and it was undrinkably high octane. My friend, Paul, drank a cup of it and passed out.
I anticipate some people would criticize me for using a Martha Stewart recipe in the first place, but how can you not love an old boozehound felon like Martha? On her website she has a feature that allows you to search for recipes by ingredient and it's clear that the lady loves her hooch. Here are the number of recipes I found containing various spirits:
The search for "beer" returned 225 recipes. Hey. I'll tell you something for nothing -- that Martha Stewart is my kind of lady.
The Vikings won another game. Brad Johnson is unstoppable. We're going to the Super Bowl, baby! Super Bowl! This is our year! Never mind that three of the four teams we've beaten this year have sucked.
If I wrote headlines: Motor City Kitties Boot The Mooch
This weekend I was having a discussion with Esther about information that is blog appropriate, and I envisioned some insufferable blog in which a person wrote about all sorts of things that no one else would want to know, like expertly documenting a rash.
It was one of those jokes that cuts dangerously close, though, so I will avoid telling you that the duct tape worked.
There is so much wrong with this story, I don't know where to begin. Although, I wish I had thought to propose to the child bride via a kiddie pool full of chocolate pudding.
When I was in high school, I had a four-year crush on a girl who was a fan of the Moody Blues. This was in the early 90s and as much as I liked her, I couldn't get over how dumb I thought it was to be a fan of the Moody Blues.
Once again displaying my amazing teenage capacity for duplicity, however, I was an unabashed fan of bands like Blackfoot and Lynyrd Skynyrd. "Freebird" still makes me weep. It runs in the family -- my uncle used to claim that he could be heard on a Skynyrd live album clearly answering the question, "What song does Dallas want to hear tonight?"
Blackfoot had slipped into almost total obscurity before I had even heard of them and I doubt that even the radio god that is Dave could name their biggest song without Google-searching, but I feel a certain sense of vindication to have learned today that Skynyrd will be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.