Monday, December 31, 2007

New Year's Eve 2006

I thought today would be the perfect opportunity to revisit last year's shenanigans.

(reposted from my myspace)

New Year's Eve is the amatuer night of drinkers. The best thing I can compare it to is those once-a-year christians who only go to church on Christmas; it's lame and people need not to half ass it, because that is when you fuck it up. So here you have the people who usually drink, out their whooping it up, but then you get these idiots who dont drink any other time of the year, throwing them back like a republican caught in a pedophilliac scandal. Of course they can't handle the mass amounts of liquor, so they're getting sick, getting in fights and just being general dumb asses.

That why I hate going to bars on New Year's Eve. Instead, we went party hopping with Milfgasm and Professor Beer, which was splendid because we didn't hafta driveWith an assload of freshly fallen snow on the ground, even the sober people were ending up in the ditches. The first party was one put on by people really into home brewing, needless to say, quite the selection of fine beverages, but a bit too sedate. So I pop some exstacy and that made the night more interesting.

The second party, we thought we were at the right house, but about the time Professor Beer was peeing in the bushes, we noticed that HEY there are children inside and that's DEFINITELY the wrong house. As we pseudo ran down the street, I was rethinking the my decision to wear stiletto heeled boots.

Buttery nipple shots, and many many more shots galore, and some karoke really brought 2007 in with the force of Chuck Norris kicking a baby. One of the clearest memories is me singing Prince's Pussy Control at the top of my fucking lungs. I can't find a clip of this song, but I give you some of the lyrics:
Pussy got bank in her pockets
Before she got dick in her drawers
If brother didnt have good and plenty of his own
In love pussy never did fall
And this fool named trick wanna stick her
Uh, talkin more schick than a bic
bout how he gonna make pussy a star
If she come and sing a lick on his hit
Pussy said nigga, u crazy if u dont know
Every woman in the world aint a freak
U can go platinum 4 times
Still couldnt make what I make in a week
So push up on somebody wanna hear that
Cuz this somebody here dont wanna know
Boy, u better act like u understand
When u roll with pussy control (are u ready? )

Aaah, pussy control, oh
Aaah, pussy control, oh

Breakdown(are u ready 4 the best pussy u ever felt? )

With one more verse 2 the story
I need another piece of your ear
I wanna hip u all 2 the reason
Im known as the player of the year
Cuz I met this girl named pussy
At the club international balls
She was rollin 4-deep
3 sisters and a weepy-eyed white girl drivin her haul
I pulled up right beside her
And my electric top went down
I said motherfucker, I know your reputation
And Im astounded that ure hereI fear ure lonely and u want 2 know
A 12 oclock straight up nigga
That dont give a shit that ure pussy control
Well Im that nigga, at least I wanna be
But its gonna be hard as hell
2 keep my mind off a body
That would make every rich man
Want 2 sell, sell, sell (75, we need another.. 85, 85 here, sold!)
Can I tell u what Im thinkin that u already know? U need a motherfucker that respects your name

Now say it, pussy control (are u ready? )
Aaah, pussy control, oh
Aaah, pussy control, oh

Saturday, December 29, 2007

NO, it's not the thought that counts.

UPDATE: we are now "even" because of the wine that I spilled (when no one at all was supposed to be drinking) that they think broke their internets (come on, there is no fucking correlation, but whatever). Guess I didn't clean it all up...
WHAT THE FUCK?! Lawyerman's parents gave me chickens for giftmas. Seriously,
MOTHERFUCKING CHICKENS. Some bullshit about giving them to a needy family, blah blah blah. Knowing that chickens were donated to poor people in some shithole country doesn't give me a warm feeling. It makes me feel ripped off. The only chicken I want for the holidays is cooked and served with a side of mashed potatoes. I know it makes me a selfish asshole, but I don't really care. Frankly, I'd rather donate needles to heroin addicts.
christmas chicken

Why not just give me a goddamn giftcard? Then at least I could get something I actually want. However, I should point out that just because a store offers giftcards, doesn't mean you need to buy them for people; one year I got a 30 dollar giftcard to 7-11. Who hangs out at 7-11's besides fucking bums?

To everyone who thinks it's the thought that counts, that's just platitude sodomy we tell kids when they get presents they hate. The question I ask, is what fucking thought posessed you to buy me chickens? I know what thought they were thinking when they bought me three cupcake pans... they want to fatten me up. Yes, I do indeed bake, but I dont need to bake 36 cupcakes simultaneously.

The card they gave me that accompanied my fanfuckingtastic present of chickens said "Many good wishes for the holiday and the coming new year." Well, I have a few wishes. The first one is that I wish I had brought a bigger flask to deal with this bullshit. The second wish is that I NEVER GET FUCKING CHICKENS FOR A PRESENT AGAIN. The third one is that I continue to contain my disgust at hearing Alvin and the Chipmunks Christmas CD for the gazillionth time (come on, Christmas was over almost a week ago). I think my first and third wish go hand-in-hand.

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Adventures With Auntie Cougar- Part I

No, folks, I'm not dead, just in Wisconsin (can you believe they actually sell fucking cheese curds at gas stations?) and rockin' some dial-up action.

My Aunt came to visit me from Florida before I departed to the land of the poor cholesterol. Auntie Cougar traveled in typical McMockingbird form (her maiden name was McMockingbird), with a some valium and a few of those little airplane skyy vodkas. So when I picked her up from the airport, she already had a fair amount of Giftmas spirit(s). It was the afternoon, so once she got settled and had a bit of a nap, she was ready to tie one on. I learned that because Belvedere vodka is so smooth, there is no need for a mixer and/or chaser, because one can just do shots of it.

We went bar hopping with The Novice and Landon. I feel the need to point out that my Aunt doesn't look like the average aunt. In fact, she looks exactly like me (big curly hair, big tits etc...In part II of the Auntie Cougar Adventures, I'll try to include a pic), except she is older and smells mentholy-fresh. She is just as loud, rowdy and can drink me under the table. Needless to say, Landon and The Novice were pleased to have double the McMockingbird trouble that night.

Auntie Cougar almost got in a fight with the bartender because he didn't put enough Crown Royal in her drink, and then refused to remake it. Luckily, there was this dude in the army that started buying us shots (red headed sluts amd washington apples). I think that is what got me into trouble. The Novice and Landon have been out drinking with me a whole helluva lot but have never seen me get sick (granted I've been close...), but with Auntie Cougar around I reeeeallly pushed myself to the limit. Next thing I know, we have left the bar, and I'm puking into a snowbank. Hot. We go to the Uptown Diner to try to get something to soak it up, and I get sick in the bathroom. They tell us we need to leave because it's their "policy". Fuck you and your goddamn policy, it's not like I made a mess ( Random Note: I have fantastic aim when it comes to puking). Ridiculous.

Anyway, here is the final and 12th drink of Giftmas. Yes, I know I'm late, but for me, the holiday season hasn't ended yet, so I'm actually within an acceptable time range.

The Poinsetta

  • 3 oz of Champagne, chilled (I recommend Korbel, it's a nice middle of the road champagne)
  • 3 oz. Cranberry Juice
  • 1 oz. Triple Sec

Serve in a highball glass, garnish with orange slice

Monday, December 24, 2007

santa does the mambo

RAAAAAAAWwwwwwwwr!!!! merry giftmas. i'm already2 drunk to do a legitimate post. but this is what i'm drinking at the moment at milfgasm & co's house.


  • 1 oz of tequila (patron silver, bitchez!!)
  • 3/4 oz creme de cocao
  • dash of motherfuckin' nutmeg

shake with ice and strain into a COCKtail glass

Friday, December 21, 2007

Scavenging for Jesus' Birthday

Yesterday was my office holiday party. Instead of doing the typical, open-bar gathering, where someone makes out with the secretary in the broom closet, my office had a scavenger hunt in Uptown Minneapolis. Granted, all of us are under 30, and full of vim and vigor, but honestly this is not how I wanted to spend my Thursday afternoon (even if I was still getting paid). It was icy and shitty, with a couple inches of snow on the ground, and because of my pins and plate in my leg, I’m just one slip and fall away from being a legitimate cripple. Not to mention, I had the pregnant girl on my team, and she wasn’t moving very fast.

I don’t actually like most of my coworkers (there’s a shocker), so I felt that it would be in everyone’s best interest for me to get a little festive beforehand. At lunch with Sarah, I had two apple martinis. This did wonders for my patience level, as I found out I like my coworkers much better after downing a couple. One of the questions was phrased like this: “Horst Rechelbacher created this product, for which Tequila Mockingbird has no use for this product because of her natural and ample _______.” Calvin Crustitron and Sarah automatically come up with “BOOOBS” as their answer. Their other partner thought it might be “curls” instead, which fit because there was an Aveda salon nearby.

We had the distinct pleasure of dodging hobos (we ended up feeding one with our McDonalds we had bought, to get the toy out of the happy meal). No bum dodging was necessary last year, as the scavenger hunt took place in the Mall of America; but there were tourists there, and I after living the majority of my life in Fla, I DESPISE tourists… I’m not quite sure which is worse, panhandlers or dumbass tourists.

Other exciting shenanigans included (but not limited to) getting kicked out of various retail stores because they do NOT like you taking pictures. Leaving our Polaroid camera at old Chicago (it wouldn’t have mattered how many points we got, losing the camera would’ve been an instant FAIL) while on a quest to get a seasonal item; the other two teams picked bread, we went for a bottle of winter lager and got extra points! We did manage to get it back. Also, I had to sneak in the band area at Famous Daves, and play the drums (I like how my boss had stuff on the list that would get us in trouble). The staff was not amused.
scavenger hunt2

We didn’t win, despite trying to convince the shops and businesses not to help the other teams. Afterwards we went to Chino Latino, and got down to the business of boozing and pretending to get along splendidly. Great food, but I was disappointed that the “house of wang’s salt and pepper shrimp” wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be…

For all of you thirsty readers, another recipe in my 12 drinks of Giftmas series:

Giftmas Hunch Punch
  • 1 bottle of Southern Comfort (750 milliliter size)
  • 6 oz of lemon juice
  • 1 6 oz can of frozen lemonade concentrate (thawed, dumbasses)
  • 1 6 oz can of frozen orange juice concentrate
  • 3 liters of lemon lime flavored carbonated beverage
  • 1 orange, sliced into rounds
  • l lemon, sliced into rounds

Combine all of into a big ass bowl. Stir. It's not rocket science.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Giftmas Meme

Ok, I was tagged for a meme, and I don't get all hot and bothered by them, but I didnt feel like writing a "real" post. I took some of the questions out because I am lazy and the answer would've been boring... Those of you who read this often, know at the very least I am always entertaining.

1. Wrapping or gift bags? I can wrap like a motherfucker, but when I give someone the gift of booze, I stick it in a bag for quicker access (I do put a bow on it so it looks festive).
2. Real or artificial tree? Personally, it doesn’t matter, but at someone else’s house, I prefer to vomit in their real tree, because it covers up the smell of my shrimp cocktail and gin.
3. When do you put up the tree? This year it happened during a blizzard.

4. When do you take the tree down? When the needles fall off and I’m sick of finding them in the oddest places, like down the back of my thong (WTF?)
5. Do you like eggnog? Only if I make it, and fill it full of alcoholic goodness.
6. Favorite gift received as a child? Easy Bake Oven. I used to melt legos and barbies inside
7. Do you have a nativity scene?
FUCK NO. I am a hardcore atheist. Although, one of my favorite Christmas memories was when I was 16; me, my gay best friend Mike, his then boyfriend and our slutty friend Casey stealing random pieces from people’s nativity scenes while we were rolling on ecstasy. We ended up with a wise man, two donkeys, a baby Jesus, a black Virgin Mary, and a random reindeer.
8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
A goat. Seriously.
9. Favorite Christmas Movie? Usually I would say “ A Christmas Story”, hell I even have the shirt, buuuuuuut,
“Barely Legal Christmas” has taken it’s place.
10. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Shopping? Fuck that, I shoplift… What present means more than one you could’ve gone to jail for?
11. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Cock. Xmas is the season for cock-gobbling.
12. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Clear lights. The glow gives my boob a woodie.
13. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Peppermint, Peach, Cinnamon, Apple, Butterscotch… oh wait, those are my favorite flavors of Schnapps.
14. Open the presents Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning? Depends on how hungover I am.
15. Most annoying thing about this time of year? Those bell ringing sons of bitches.
16. Do you decorate your tree in any specific theme or color? Actually yes. This year I listened to Tool and drunkenly decorated the tree with reds, whites and silvers. It looks fanfuckingtastic.
17. What do you leave for Santa? single malt scotch. It’s why I get the shiny gifts.

This 9th drink of Giftmas was a recipe given to me by my friend MILFgasm.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookie
  • ¾ oz Butterscotch Schnapps
  • ¼ Cinnamon Schnapps (I recommend Goldshlager)
  • ¼ Irish Cream

Pour over ice. It will leave you with the same feeling that 'all is right with the world', just like the cookies do. DO NOT SERVE TO CHILDREN.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Reindeer Games I play

It’s that time of year, for receiving useless and unwanted gifts. This particular flavor of douchebaggery is most often tasted in the workplace, in the form of a Secret Santa present exchange. My office is super small, with only 9 people, so we all draw names and every week hide a $5 present. The first week I got this bizarre video (a double feature, but it was a double feature where both movies blew ass). Granted it came with a Chipotle gift card, but I was thinking, WTF?! Yes, the dude on the front looked slightly like Tom Selleck (and everyone knows I have a “thing” for him, how can they miss it with my desktop collage?), but to confuse him with Tom Skerritt is downright criminal.

So I decided when I finally found out who it was, I would start some Secret Sabotage. Much like the Secret Santa game, but every so often I would do something to fuck with them at work. Fortunately, the next week, I got some cocktail mixes. I knew whoever had me must like me, because they weren’t the bullshit small ones, but the huge bottles that can totally do some damage.

The next week I came in, I became positive that it HAD to be Calvin Crustitron. Who else would have the balls to wrap my office in wrapping paper?
my office

Inside I found a giant picture of Chuck Norris. I was indeed amused. It was certainly better than a candle or some lame post-it notes with cats on them. The creativity and knowledge of my interest in Chuck Norris (it was him who was
on my desktop for many months) was awe inspiring.

I turned my need to be naughty in a different direction. I decided to go rogue, and start giving other people in the office presents. For example, I gave the pregnant girl a pack of condoms (oops, guess I was a little late). And for the chick that is obsessed with her appearance to where it makes her a vapid, shallow vacuous waste of a person, I got her teeth whitening strips. HILLARITY! This served a dual purpose, it entertained me, and it ferreted out the ‘real’ secret santa who was like “I DIDN’T GIVE YOU DAVID HASSELHOFF PASTIES” (to the mean, flat chested girl who seems to think she is all that and a shot of red bull). Yes, I did indeed give myself a fake gift, because otherwise, it would be totally obvious who the rogue secret santa was. For myself, a bottle of St. John’s Wort (believe it or not, I can be a bit of a bitch to people who I have overwhelming disdain for their incompetence).

Anyway, if my reindeer games failed to bring holiday cheer to your fat monkey hearts, #8 in my 12 drinks of Giftmas certainly will!

Giftmas Sour
  • 1 oz of sweet vermouth
  • 3 oz of scotch
  • 2 oz of cherry brandy
  • 1 egg white
  • 1 oz fresh lemon juice

Mix up these good times with ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake it like a polaroid picture and strain over ice in a highball glass. Garnish with thin sliced lemon on the rim of the glass.

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

Beer and Bears

I’m not a football fan, mostly because it’s just not violent enough. Anyway, I went to a football party last night, mostly because it’s a party and it seemed like a quality way to spend my Monday night. It was the Vikings vs. Da Bears, and frankly I was more interested in the jello shots. I don’t normally drink beer, but Leinenkugal’s creamy dark tastes like a goddamn truffle, so I threw down the shackles of my usual mixed drinks in favor of it.

My friends that hosted it are some of the most awesome people I know, and even if they hadn’t got me the most fanfuckingtastic present ever, this would be true. Some background on them, they are both atheists, but celebrate solstice. They don’t buy presents for everyone, just if they see something that ‘speaks’ to them about a person. When they saw a cell phone flask, they immediately thought of me (it does scream Tequila Mockingbird). This sweet little 6 oz cherry of a flask, even has a belt clip!
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I heard a disturbing story from a couple that lives on an Alpaca farm. Either they hadn’t told this story at the last party I seen them at, or I was too trashed to remember, but on their farm they have a cow, and they had to castrate it. I don’t even have testicles, and I was squirming around in my chair uncomfortably. Luckily, my socks offered some levity. Being that I was solidly the youngest one there, everyone else was at least over 35, I can say with some assuredness, no one else had striped frog toe socks.
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I bring you to #8 of my boozetastic 12 drinks of Giftmas.

Black Santa
  • 3/4 oz of Coffee Liqueur (normally I go for Kahlua, but if you're planning on being up all night rockin' around the Giftmas tree, use Starbucks coffee liqueur)
  • 1/4 oz Peppermint Schnapps
  • 1/2 oz of Vodka

Pour Vodka and Kahlua into an old-fashioned glass filled with ice cubes. Add peppermint schnapps and DRINK UP!

Monday, December 17, 2007

Zombies and Old Chicago

Friday night me, my flask, and Landon went to see “I am Legend”. Other people were supposed to come, but they shall remain anonymous douchebags. Anyway, Even if the movie’s bad, I can still enjoy it when I add vodka to the movie theatre's slushies. This was a decent movie, and I would’ve probably liked it even if I hadn’t been rocking the vodka slushie.
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Afterwards we went to Old Chicago in Uptown, and managed to snag one of their gaming booths. For those of you who have never been to an Old Chicago, these booths have computer games that you can play for a dollar, and provide much drunken fun. I was already buzzed from the movie, and I couldn’t manage to concentrate on the games because this guy that was some flavor of emotionally handicapped/disturbed was playing one of the free-standing computer games in front of us and every so often would hit himself on the chest, much like a gorilla. Perhaps I’m just using that as an excuse as to why I failed.

After one of the trivia questions about how many people committed suicide in 2006, it said: “Please don’t kill yourself” WTF?! I couldn’t tell if it was a joke or something their legal department put in there. Either way it was unexpected. What pissed me off is that they wouldn’t let us use filthy names or expletives when we finished and were prompted to enter a name. That’s no fun. So we were forced to be creative with such high-scoring names as “Pune nanny” or “Anul Beast”.

The waitress got my first drink wrong, bringing me a 7 and vodka instead of a cran-vodka. This was a mixed blessing, being that I could take a few sips before she came back with my new drink, but this would also mean while waiting for her to bring me my correct drink, Landon is getting ‘ahead’ of me; he is not an easy one to catch up with. Overall, the drinks were light on vodka, and I was fortunate I still had some left in my flask to be able to top them off with. I had to be James Bond about adding more vodka, but these booths were perfect to be able to do it discreetly.

With two dollar rail drinks (it’s one of the few times I’m ok with cheap vodka) and $2.50 beer, and a great atmosphere, chock full of whippersnappers, it’s a great place to spend Friday night. Although, avoid Tuesdays, because that is karaoke night, and the people that work their go buck nutty and act like they are trying out for American Idol. Kudos to their $2 two topping pizzas, it’s just what Dr. McVodkaBreath ordered to soak it up.
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The 7th drink in my 12 drinks of Giftmas series is probably my most potent one. Don’t plan on going anywhere after downing a couple of these.

The Flaming Jesus
  • 1. part Grain Alcohol (I recommend Everclear)
  • 1. part 151 Rum
  • Layer 151 on top of Everclear, Light on Fire, Drink on Fire

Friday, December 14, 2007

Happy Hour Evaluations

I didn’t set out to do it this week, but the cosmos all aligned and I managed to do three happy hours in the span of three days. This gave me the golden opportunity to compare the pros and cons of the different places I’ve been to. The first one was on Tuesday, and unexpected, but after Calvin Crustitron got verbally sodomized at work, Sarah suggested we go get some drinks. We went to one of my personal favorite bars nearby, Bennegins. Not only do I love the rowdy Irish atmosphere, but the bartender knows me. He gives me Kettel One in my cranberry cocktails for rail vodka price. This is a good thing. I’m not that big of a fan of cheap vodka, it’s like the ugly girl that gets taken out on a date when her hot roommate is uninterested. The problem with this bar, is that the bartender is somewhat creepy. I always know it’s time to leave when he starts talking about “biting my freckles.”

Wednesday, after a shitty long day of work, my friend that lives nearby invited me to go out to
Joe Sensors. It’s a decent bar, but fucking a, the way they have this gem nestled into the suburbs, it’s worse than trying to get to a rave; you go down all of these frontage roads, and ask a guy who will tell you… ridonkulous; I would think they would want the bar to be easily found. But I didn’t miss out on anything, they don’t have drink specials until ten. That’s honestly where Bennigans has them beat… they give 5-7 pm two for ones; it totally evens out things with the creepy bartender. The bartender at Joe Sensors was cool, and even pretended he wasn’t eavesdropping when we were talking about swinger parties (before the emails start, no I don’t go to them). When I ordered my Pirate Punch (great drink, FYI, with Bacardi Raz, Bacardi O, Bacardi Citron and some pineapply-punch) he made me re-order it using a pirate accent.

Last night I definitely wasn’t planning on going out, but I got a call from my friend’s wife, MILFgasm, asking me if I was missing something. My wallet had fallen out in his car, and because I’m 23, I get carded almost always. It would be a sad, sober weekend without my wallet. So I met him and his wife out at the Crowne Plaza, which has an awesome fire pit. But I was disappointed at the lack of prostitutes, because after all it WAS a hotel bar.
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The first round of drinks were free thanks to a phone call to the manager by MILFgasm. They have fanfuckingtastic chicken nachos, but her husband’s martini was lacking in flavor and her pomegranate martini wasn’t mixed well. My blueberry vodka fizz martinis were heavy on the vodka, but I would rather them be potent than too light on the liquor. After a few of those, and discussion on how the fire pit resembled a sacrifice alter to offer up a goat, I decided to get some pics bowing down to it. The people watching were mostly amused, but a bit surprised that some chick was worshiping at a fire pit in a hotel lobby.
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On that note, I will get to the next recipe in my 12 drinks of Giftmas series:

Mistletoe Apertif
  • In a tall shot glass, add 1/2 oz of Chambord
  • Then gently pour 1/2 oz of Midori over the back of a spoon so it flows on top of the Chambord without mixing
  • Repeat that process with 1/2 oz of orange schnapps

You can flame it by igniting the top with a match; blow the flame out after a few seconds, and make sure the rim of the glass isn't too hot before throwing it back.

Thursday, December 13, 2007

Sweater of Awesomeness

For our office holiday card, we decided to go with a “have an over the top holiday” theme, and all wear tacky Christmas sweaters. So last week we went on a quest to find such sweaters. I figured the best place to find them would be at a thrift store. Unfortunately, we found none, but did see some interesting characters. Most interesting was what they sold there. Underpants and lingerie. WTF??!?!?! Used undergarments seems to be a really bad idea. I don’t care how many times you wash it with bleach, I wouldn’t wear someone else’s underpants. It’s not like underpants are that high ticket of an item, like a winter coat. Undergarments in my opinion are a one-owner item. Unless you are a stripper, then by all means, take ‘em off and throw them into the crowd!

While on our sweater finding mission, we went into a couple of stores, and because we were on a lunch-hour timed mission, we had to be quick. So Calvin Crustitron, with his usual grace and finesse asked the employees where they kept their tacky holiday sweaters. Instantly, they lead us to the correct departments. I ended up with a vest that had cats wearing santa hats in stockings. I pimped that shit out, after all, it had a furred collar and bells!!! Calvin opted for a sexy, though homosexual, beaded-pearled-sequined snowman sweater (yes, it was a woman’s sweater). They didn’t use this picture of us, but here we are in all of our glory.

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For some holiday cheer, go see
this while it's still up. To get even more holiday cheer, try this:

Santa's Little Helper
  • 1 1/2 oz Apple Schnapps
  • 1 1/2 oz of Butterscotch Schnapps
  • 1 1/2 oz Goldshlager
  • 5 oz apple juice
Pour it into a cocktail shaker, shake it like a baby and strain into a large cocktail glass. Garnish with apple slice or cinnamon stick.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Porn and Cookbooks

What does porno and cookbooks have in common? The well used ones both have sticky pages! Anyway, I really think porn gets a bad rap by some people. Let’s look at this subjectively; it is magical and provides some essential services. For example, it spices up a sexless marriage. I hate those broads who bitch and moan about their husband looking at porn. Well, would you rather him cheat on you? If you don’t want to feel left out, why not join him in watching a bunch of attractive bodies slapping together in red-hot sexin’?
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Porn also lights up a teenager’s imagination. Kids are in need of some nudity and direction as to what they should be doing in the sack. Granted, real life sex usually isn’t double penetration to every member of the cheerleading squad, but watching porn at least cuts down on the awkward fumbling. Although for chicks, once they get out and start finding penises of their own, it’s a bit shocking to find out that most guys are not hung like a stallion with balls the size of tangerines.
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Most importantly, pornography keeps a predator off the streets. It’s hard to drive your rapist van when you are jacking off. People who say that porn made them commit rapes and child abuse are just trying to con their way out of trouble, and look for an excuse why they are a piece of shit. Fact of the matter is, if you’re going to be a sick ass motherfucker, having porn wont put you over the edge, your own lack of self control will. Perhaps porn can make what little self control predators have last a little bit longer.

So I say HOOOOOOORAY PORN! Look at it often, look at it closely, and share it with a friend. One of
my favorite porn sites is one of the best to look at nekkid celebrities. Since I'm posting about porn, I thought what better to have as my next drink of Giftmas, than some eggnog. It's boozy, festively delicious and requires a lot of beating.

Mockingbird Eggnog
  • Beat 9 large egg yolks (seperate out the egg whites) with 3/4 cup of sugar until the mixture is pale and thick with ribbons when the beaters are lifted from the bowl.
  • In a seperate bowl, beat two thirds of the egg whites until they hold soft peaks.
  • Do some more beating in a third bowl with 4 cups of heavy cream until it holds soft peaks.
  • Fold the whites into the yolk mixture until it is combined well and then fold in the whipped cream oh so gently BUT THOROUGHLY.
  • Pour it into a punch bowl, whisk in 1 cup of bourbon, 1/2 cup of dark rum (I use Captain Morgan), 2 1/2 half cups of milk, 1/4 teaspoon of salt.
  • Cover and chill for at least four hours.
  • Before serving, beat the remaining egg yolks in a bowl until they hold soft peaks, fold them into the eggnog and sprinkle with nutmeg and cinnamon.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Instant Pick-Me-Up

There’s nothing like watching that show “Intervention” to really make me feel good about my life. For those of you who have never watched it, it’s about people who are addicted to something, and usually have lost much if not everything because of it. Someone that cares about them contacts the show, and they pretend to be doing a documentary on people with addiction and follow them around for a week.

I could be having seriously bad times, like for example, last night I was trying to wrap Giftmas presents drunk, and kept getting the curling ribbon tangled up or getting the tape stuck in my hair. I was cursing up a storm, and then Intervention came on. This girl was a meth addict, 19 years old with the teeth like an old garden rake. She felt she didn’t have any problems (except for her pesky family getting in the way). Also, she was fucking random dudes for the money to get more drugs. Seems like she has a bright future; almost as bright as the light bulbs she smokes meth out of.

Which brings me to a concept my coworker Calvin Crustitron and I came up with: “the rock bottom theory.” Men when they are addicted to a substance or have some problem that interferes with being a functioning member of society, they hit rock bottom and usually realize they need help. However, with women, this doesn’t happen. If they are moderately decent looking, they can strip and have the money to keep their addiction going. Even if they are a disgusting skell, they can still find some poor, pathetic bastard to pay to stick in it one of their three rancid holes. By the time they have no other options they are usually unsalvageable. By that time they probably have one of the STD’s that stick with you for life, a criminal record, and a look to them that makes them unemployable most everywhere.
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Anyway, I’ve been thinking about writing the producers of Intervention, to let them know how their show has increased my self esteem, and that I keep at least three episodes TIVO’ed so when I have an awful day, I just watch one of those, and see a person who lives in their Ford Escort and takes a dump in bus stops (who wants to go to the bathroom with the wind whistling up their butthole?) and instantly I feel like I’m on top of the fucking world.

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Suck It Grim Reaper

I am pretty fuckin’ scared about getting old. Today when I was in Home Depot, this old man shit his pants. And I don’t mean he let one fly that was unusually rancid, no this guy took a steaming dump in his pants. The smell followed me, like the Angel of Death for at least three isles. I’m not sure what would be worse, shitting my pants in public or not knowing/caring I just shit my pants in public.
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Granted, there are good things about growing older, like sweet parking spots places like Perkins offers for Senior Citizens (when I first saw them, I’m like WTF, they already get the most choice parking spots with their handicapped stickers). Not to mention, they get great food specials, which are like the reasonable portions of kids meals, without the toy. Oh, to be able to bitch about "the good ol’ days" and force little children to listen and eat those disgusting Worther’s Originals.
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But worrying about breaking a hip and outliving your friends and loved ones would probably tip the scale to the negative side. So, to make up for this, I think when I get old, I’m going to make the best of it. I’m going to drive even faster than I do now; if I get stopped I’ll simply tell the officer: "look at me, I’m elderly… I’m trying to out run the Grim Reaper, and I can’t do that while going the speed limit." I will shoplift at every opportunity. If I’m caught, I will just pretend to be senile, and then start crying about how my grandchildren never visit me. They’ll let me go. Also, I definitely will be starting electrical wheelchair jousting matches at the old folks home. I plan to take full advantage of whatever prescription drugs they try to offer me in my nursing home. But, I’ll probably want to snort them to get the most benefits. With luck, I’ll have some offspring to sneak booze in to me, in hopes of a place in my will.

This weekend's Giftmas Drink of Choice, is one that will keep you warmer than those fugly afghans old people use. If you haven't tried the other 2, you had better, because life is short, and you could be shitting your pants before you know it.

White Christmas Dream
  • 1 oz vodka (I suggest Ketel One)
  • 1 oz amaretto
  • nutmeg for garnish

Pour ingredients into shaker filled with ice. Shake (it is best to let a woman do the shaking so you can watch her boobs jiggle). Garnish with nutmeg after pouring into cocktail class.

Friday, December 7, 2007

7 Things That Do Not Help A Hangover

Last night I hit up Williams in Uptown with a friend. The first couple of hours, were rough, being that they didn’t offer two-for-one specials. Luckily, the bartender who had the ponytail of the Highlander (and I mentioned this to him too) was very friendly and not being a Scrooge with the vodka-to-mixer ratio. We ran into The Novice, lonely because his roommate Landon (our other drinking buddy), is in Jamaica. He was looking to score some ass, but going about it the wrong way, by hitting on the other bartender, a legitimate beast.
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The cool thing about Williams is that in the basement, they have a peanut bar, with free peanuts you can throw the shells on the floor. When we brought the peanuts upstairs to eat them, the bartender (who looked like she ate many, many peanuts), snatched them out of my hands. This of course angers me (I had been double fisting for about two hours at this point), but the Novice sees where this can lead, and doesn’t want another situation like when I almost got in a fight with a piano player, so he diffuses the situation.
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Fast forward to this morning; I have made a list—

What Does Not Help A Hangover:

  1. Being yelled because the night before you were singing Dio while stumbling in. I argued that maybe there WAS a rainbow in the dark, but then I was told I wasn’t singing that, but instead Holy Diver.
  2. Spraying perfume in your mouth thinking it is breath spray (it smells delicious, but Gucci Rush does not taste delicious).
  3. Having to do a scavenger hunt for your keys (how did they get in the refrigerator?)
  4. Buttoning up your jacket the wrong way, so that when you walk outside a cold blast of wind gets in the gap and freezes your boobs.
  5. Following that up with scraping ice off your windshield and intermittently stopping to take a deep breath so as not to vomit in the snowdrift.
  6. Driving to work and listening to techno Christmas music because you are unable to change the station (goddamn you leather gloves that make my fingers into fat little sausages!)
  7. Deciding to eat leftover cake from yesterday’s birthday celebration for breakfast.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

December's Douchebag of the Month

It may be the 6th of the month, but the title of Douchebag of the Month does not necessarily need to be bestowed on the first for it to still carry all of the douchetastic honor. December’s award goes out to all of the stores and places of commerce that have those bell ringing bastards outside. I have nothing against charity, but to be confronted by these self-righteous and (usually homely) people when I’m just trying to go grocery shopping (which I often do drunk); what a buzzkill.
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Just because it is the holiday season does not make it okay for people to beg for money, like a
skell in a bar, offering sexual favors for a few dollars. You can wear a Santa hat and force some cheer, but this does not make me any more apt to part with my loose change. The Salvation Army, even without perpetrating douchebaggery under the guise of Christmas spirit and goodwill, is one of the WORST charities. They have been involved in children’s sex scandals (I’m funny like that, I don’t want to give money to pedophiles).

I would like to thank
Target for banning these harbingers of Douchemas from ringing bells outside their store. Granted, they only did it because they did not want to be connected to scandalous organizations, but even so, it is nice to be able to go there and not be assaulted by bell ringing sons of bitches.
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To lighten the mood, I would like to share the 2nd drink of my “12 Drinks of Giftmas.”

The Candy Cane
  • 3/4 oz of Creme de Cacao
  • 3/4 oz of Schnapps, peppermint
  • 1/4 oz of Grenadine

Fill a highball glass with grenadine and liquers. Stir, fill with cream, and top off with 7-up. Garnish with a candy cane.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

My Own Personal Snow Storm

Yesterday we had another blizzard, which is awesome because I got to leave work early (but still got paid regularly). However, it took me an extra hour to get home because assbags don’t know how to drive in the snow, or have forgotten how to. Making an already difficult traffic situation worse (since the bridge collapse, commutes are extra shitacular), are the cheesedicks walking around ON THE HWY who had got in an accident or their car stuck in the ditch. WTF?! Stay in your goddamn car and wait for the highway patrol, and Judas H. Priest, don’t block the fucking snow plows!

Granted, I’m new to the game of driving in the snow, but even I have the basics down. One of the biggest rules is not to ride up on the ass of other cars… When I had my Florida plates the first winter I was up here, people were sure to give me PLENTY of room. I guess it freaks people out when the roads are icy and they see someone with a license plate from a state that never sees snow. So when I traded those in for boring Minnesota plates, I had to do something to counteract the douchebaggery on wheels. This morning was so cold, my taint was shivering. Combine that with my laziness towards brushing the snow off my car, I once again decided to leave all of the snow other than what I needed to see out of my windshield and rear windshield. This causes my car to become a little snow mountain (it was piled so high, you couldn’t see there was a spoiler on my car). Once I start going at a decent speed, all of that accumulated snow starts flying off in sheets, and hitting other people’s windows. Tailgate me now bitches, because I’m my own little personal snow storm! Moving to another climate is all about finding ways to adapt.
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My happy hour plans had to be rescheduled yesterday because of all of the snow; no worries, I still got my drink on. Which brings me to the first of my “12 Drinks of Giftmas;" these have the Tequila Mockingbird seal of approval, and are sure to make your Giftmas a Merry one!

Rudolph The Red Nose Reindeer
  • 1 1/4 oz. Light Rum
  • 1 1/2 oz. Lemon Juice
  • 1/2 oz. Genadine

Add some ice, serve in a highball glass, and garnish with a cherry!

Tuesday, December 4, 2007

Malach's Meme

I don’t get all hot and bothered over memes, but this particular meme I was tagged twice to do, so I might as well play along. Both Malach and Mooog tagged me to write a letter to my 13 year old self. Here goes:

Hey little 13 year old Tequila Mockingbird! It’s 1997, and you’re stuck in suckass middle school and life is not good times. Your taller than most of the boys (don’t worry, you are tapping out now, and won’t grow any taller than your current 5’10”, so NO you won’t be a freak), have braces, a smattering of freckles, and curly hair you don’t know how to deal with. I have some fanfuckingtastic news!!! In a year, they’ll stop calling you “giraffe” (because of the super tall, super skinny, and freckly spots), because you will grow some amazing boobs. The braces will come off and you’ll find hair solace with John Frieda’s frizz-ease, which will make your hair look fun enough that random people will come up and touch it in public.
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Also, learn to celebrate your differences. It may not be cool to be unique now, but soon you’ll find many people who appreciate your oddities and like you not in spite of them, but because of them. Remember that only dead fish swim with the stream.

Ok, now that THAT is all out of the way, a couple things to be aware of: you’ll become editor of your school newspaper when you’re a junior in high school; yes, it’ll be awesometacular, but at the start of your senior year, you will become pissed at your advisor and decide to take the staff and the advertisements with you to start your own underground school newspaper.

You’ll have a lot of fun screwing around with a wide spectrum of drugs, but all of that will come to a screeching halt on the day before New Year’s Eve when you are 20. You will have been awake for almost two days on a coke binge, and go to a party where you snort a combo of Xanex and Oxycontin, and then pop some muscle relaxers. If you had been awake, it probably would’ve scared the shit out of you when you wrapped your car around a phone pole. You won’t get a DUI, but it will be awful to hear how the firemen who cut you out of your car knew you because you crashed near the fire station your dad worked at while you were growing up. Fortunately you didn’t die or get facial scarring (no one likes scarred up bitches), and only came out of it with some pins, a plate and a bone graft in your leg. Stop freaking out, you don’t walk with a limp. In fact, you are cripplicious! Bottom line: stick to booze.

I know you think you’ll live in Florida your entire life; after all, you’re fourth generation, and a true native. You’ll move to Minnesota when you are 21. It won’t work out like you thought it would, but it’s for the best and you’re chaos will become controlled, as opposed to just chaos.

According to the rules, I am supposed to tag five other people:

1. SiteInsights
2. R.E.H.
3. Hungry Mother
4. Ted Velvet
5. Whomever else wants to answer
Rules are that these people link to me, write a letter to their 13 yr old self, and then tag five other people. It’s like a chain letter, without the promise of good luck.

Monday, December 3, 2007

A Giftmas Miracle!

All week the news had been telling us that we were going to get a snowstorm that would bring us 5-10 inches of snow. So when it started to hit, I was content to stay indoors and enjoy some liquid holiday cheer. However, coming from the land of the ice and snow, the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow (mmm, Zeppelin), Lawyerman felt the need to go out in the blizzard to get the giftmas tree. I guess that’s what four wheel drive is for, right?

Many people don’t get why Lawyerman and I have always had giftmas trees, even though both of us are staunch atheists. One of the main reasons he likes having a tree is it gives him a chance to tell people about its pagan origins. I incorporate it into a holiday of my own creation, Giftmas. It is basically where you hang out with people you like and/or care about, get festively drunk as much as possible, make and eat foods that are bad for you. I think people have gotten away from the true meaning of the holidays, and are forgetting that Santa died for our presents; that’s where the giving and receiving of awesome gifts comes in (and sometimes tacky sweaters that have so much of the giftmas spirit that they need to be re-gifted to someone else).
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Anyway, so we get the tree back to his house and as it starts melting, I am surprised with the extra foot and a half wide it is. Even more surprising while hanging stocking with care, I hear some screeching sounds and peer into the tree. IT IS A FUCKING BAT! I guess with the snowstorm hit, he went inside to get some shelter. I start freaking out, which scares the bat, and he flies out of the tree like the squirrel from Natl. Lampoons Christmas Vacation. Lawyerman grabs a tennis racket, DragonBoy is upset, begging him not to kill it, because it might be batman, and we are finally able to get it corralled near the door. I shove open the door, which scares the hell out of the woman standing outside the front door who was dropping off a holiday wreath; after delivery was two weeks overdue, I had assumed that the cub scout that sold Lawyerman a wreath had just ripped him off and had ridiculed him mercilessly about it.
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Even after the bat had flown away, wreath-delivery-mom was still swatting at her hair. And that folks, is a true Giftmas miracle! I chuckled about it throughout my drunken decorating of my color-coordinated Giftmas tree.