Assuming that everyone had a tolerable holiday season, I've decided that the annoying "holiday cheer" should have long since departed everyone's daily routines, and it's more than appropriate for me to impose my (always correct) opinions and observations on everyone. Seeing as how I have already stated my disdain for Jesus' Birthday Semantics, and I really don't observe MLK Jr. Day save sending the four black people I know a text message, I've decided to set the record straight on what I truly plan on doing with 2012 (aka, my 23 year on Earth).
My New Year's Resolutions:
1. Lose Weight/Live a Healthier Lifestyle
This seems to be a common trend for everyone in the world, as anyone who frequents a fitness club could observe. Ah yes, what better a time than the dead of winter to resolve to shed the pounds you've been packing on over the years and neglected to lose in years past? My thoughts on weight loss/healthy eating habits are this: give up. I don't believe in diets. I do, however, believe in eating when you're hungry (or drunk). I have always lived an active lifestyle. Aside from dancing on bar tops and sprinting from the vehicle to the bar, I also run frequently (oh, and I was a cheerleader for the better (or worse, can't decide) half of my life). I think there's a formula that says the more you workout, the more weight you lose. I figure if you can couple some physical activity with less caloric intake, you're on your way to Kate Moss.
Just kidding. Who am I fooling here? Living a healthier life style would mean banning the excessive alcohol consumption and recreational activities, and don't you dare threaten me with a good time. My basic philosophy on weight control is this: if you wake up late enough in the day, you can skip breakfast. After going for a run or doing some intense cardio, consuming an iced coffee is a great way to get your energy up. Snack as needed. Generally, the best thing to do after working out it is to pass out for a few hours to fend off your hangover, and, once you wake up, start pre-gaming so hard that you forget to eat. Worst case scenario, you hit the drive through late night. Most of the time, greasy fast food has a way of coming back up in record time, so it's pretty much as if you never ate it in the first place. When all else fails, nicotine is fabulous for curing cravings. Try it. Or, if you're like me, you can incorporate food into your drinking habits. Here's an ideal day:
Breakfast: Bloody Mary (there's tomato juice in it, and if you have like 3, you've got your daily serving of veggies covered. Throw a celery stalk and some olives in there and you're golden. Also, I like them with black pepper and tobasco sauce. I read somewhere that spicy food kicks up your metabolism. Even if it doesn't, tell yourself that. Think thin).
Lunch: something small, consisting of a half a sandwich or a huge salad (no dressing. Dressing is gross. Why would you want to change the flavor of your greens? Add a tomato or something), and accompanied with something non-alcoholic, like white wine or champagne (made from grapes. This is basically a fruits & veggies only diet).
Dinner: vodka. It's made from potatoes. Make a dirty martini with blue cheese stuffed olives and you're good to go. I like to have 3 Olives Cake for dessert.
Don't believe in cancer, it's always the good who die young. Look it up, Billy Joel even said so, and who am I to question someone who's work was part of a Broadway show?
So basically, I realized that this NYR was null and void, because there's nothing about my daily routine I see a need to fix.
2. Be Nice to People.
I really thought long and hard about this one. I realized that I can't fight human nature, and it's in my nature to be informative. I was almost a teacher, until I realized that I hate children, I'm way too money-hungry for that salary, and I dropped out of college. It's in my nature to share knowledge. I think it's only fair to let people know when they're being idiots. It's not me being mean, it's me trying to help. I don't understand why people are so sensitive about constructive criticism. If people hired me as their life coach, I guarantee you there would be a lot less stupid girls in loveless relationships and far fewer children with stupid, trendy names in this world. Apparently, this would make me 0/2. This is another New Year's Resolution that does not apply to me.
3. Reconnect with Old Friends.
Just kidding. Care to know what I'll be doing in May of 2012? Like I have a clue, but I damn sure will NOT be attending my high school reunion. If I could use two words to describe my general attitude towards the people I was forced to be educated alongside in my youth, they would be "uninterested" and "apathetic." No. I didn't care what you did with yourself five years ago, and I sure as hell don't care now. The only way I would go near anything related to my high school class is if I were offered some sort of time-travel opportunity where I could impart my current wisdom and knowledge unto my 15 year old self. I would have wasted even less time with those people, and would have actually spent time getting to know people that were truly interesting (ironically enough, the people I am most intrigued by and have the most respect for of my graduating class weren't close friends at all).
So thanks, but no thanks. I'm a firm believer that wherever life takes you, the people you're meant to have in yours will be with you regardless. I also don't think there's a chance I could get through any type of get together of this sort sober, which inevitably means I'll wind up telling someone he or she looks terrible & has gained an unforgivable amount of weight. 0/3
Which would lead me to my real resolution:
Survive the apocalypse. It's the only logical goal to give myself, really.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, December 19, 2011
It's Time to Air Some Grievances.
I fucking hate the holidays.
I know, shocker, right? Who would have ever guessed I hate a time of year dedicated to being merry & bright? I do, however, strongly support the holiday Festivus (For the rest of us). It all began on Seinfeld, and basically, there is no Christmas tree or gift giving, but there is a non-decorated Festivus pole and an airing of grievances. Sign. Me. Up.
However, before I black myself out of 2011 and into 2k12, I'd like to air a few grievances I have with the world.
1. Elf on a Shelf.
Okay, "what the fuck is this noise?" you may ask. Question answered: it's a doll of the elf variety that over-achieving mothers put in their homes around Christmas time. The elf supposedly watches the children of the house and reports back to Santa. The idea is basically the elf can parent your children for a month. First of all, Santa's getting lazy if you ask me. What the hell happened to him being the all-knowing power? Now he has elves do his bidding? Weak sauce, Fat Man. Second of all, why the hell would any parent go to that much work to not discipline their children? Apparently, the elf is supposed to move locations and wreak havoc on the home. Um, no thanks. If I ever reproduce (which I'm not planning on, because I'm a responsible person who cares about the future of our society), there is no chance in hell I will support any of this elf nonsense. There will be no further shenanigans when it comes to this holiday. There's already enough accessories; there's a tree, and stockings, and people expect you to put up lights too. Why do people insist on making terrible seasons worse than they already are? If I ever have children, they will get their presents and shut up. I refuse to move an elf around my home. My mother never did any of these things with me, and I'm perfectly well-adjusted.
2. Smirnoff.
Okay, it's no secret, Smirnoff Vodka is the World's Best Tasting Vodka (for people who typically drink gasoline or have no taste buds). It's also very evident they're way behind on the desert-flavored vodka trend. Oh, just now you're deciding to make whipped cream flavored vodka? Call up Pinnacle and Three Olives and ask if you can borrow your notes from the past two years. I would be very content to ignore their blatant disregard for punctuality if it hadn't been for their new advertising campaign and choice of spokesperson. Amber Rose? Seriously? Who knows what Amber Rose is famous for? If you guessed "banging Kanye West" you are correct! Oh, good to know that all you have to do to become the face of a vodka brand is get penetrated by an egotistical black man with a drinking problem. Get in line, sister. Who the hell assigned her any credibility? Also, have you seen the commercials? Not only are they terrible, but she speaks like she has down syndrome and is in the middle of having a stroke. I really find it offensive when people over-enunciate their consonants; it generally makes me feel like I'm watching Teen Mom (which I do, but only Tuesday nights at 10). Has everyone forgotten the art of reading out loud? Did everyone else in this country miss the first fucking grade? Also, the tag line is "Because Vodka Never Felt This Good." I disagree. NOTHING ABOUT SMIRNOFF FEELS GOOD. I have a very specific criteria I enforce while deciding on my libations, the general guideline being that if you have to bend over to pick it up off the shelf, you'll be bending over to throw it up at some point over the night. I'm going to ignore any sexual innuendo attempts by Smirnoff in replacing "tasted" with "felt" and continue to elaborate on how there is no activity you can do with a bottle of Smirnoff that will feel good. The last time I drank Smirnoff, I was in Vegas, and if I recall correctly, I couldn't feel a thing after that, so who knows if what went down was good or blatantly mediocre. Who. The hell knows. Furthermore, I've been campaigning for the past three years of my life to be sponsored by Three Olives. As in, I would like for them to send me free vodka and support my already expensive drinking habits. Why do people that suck at life keep getting the things I want?
3. The Holiday Season.
What the fuck is it about Jesus's birthday that causes everyone to turn into maniacs? Everyone within a four mile radius of any shopping plaza is rude. Nobody's happy about spending a ton of money on people you're forced to see. I hate forced interaction, and the holidays are a breeding ground for it. Oh, yay, let's all get together and stand around with people we don't like in the spirit of Christmas. The only type of holiday spirit I can ever get down with comes in a frosted bottle, and its name is Three Olives. If there was any way to skip this entire Christmas ordeal and go right to New Years, I'm all for it. Also, I really wish Starbucks would stop pushing it's peppermint agenda down everyone's throats.
Oh, and if anyone else gets engaged over the next two weeks, I'm going to throw up.
Happy holidays you ass clowns!
I know, shocker, right? Who would have ever guessed I hate a time of year dedicated to being merry & bright? I do, however, strongly support the holiday Festivus (For the rest of us). It all began on Seinfeld, and basically, there is no Christmas tree or gift giving, but there is a non-decorated Festivus pole and an airing of grievances. Sign. Me. Up.
However, before I black myself out of 2011 and into 2k12, I'd like to air a few grievances I have with the world.
1. Elf on a Shelf.
Okay, "what the fuck is this noise?" you may ask. Question answered: it's a doll of the elf variety that over-achieving mothers put in their homes around Christmas time. The elf supposedly watches the children of the house and reports back to Santa. The idea is basically the elf can parent your children for a month. First of all, Santa's getting lazy if you ask me. What the hell happened to him being the all-knowing power? Now he has elves do his bidding? Weak sauce, Fat Man. Second of all, why the hell would any parent go to that much work to not discipline their children? Apparently, the elf is supposed to move locations and wreak havoc on the home. Um, no thanks. If I ever reproduce (which I'm not planning on, because I'm a responsible person who cares about the future of our society), there is no chance in hell I will support any of this elf nonsense. There will be no further shenanigans when it comes to this holiday. There's already enough accessories; there's a tree, and stockings, and people expect you to put up lights too. Why do people insist on making terrible seasons worse than they already are? If I ever have children, they will get their presents and shut up. I refuse to move an elf around my home. My mother never did any of these things with me, and I'm perfectly well-adjusted.
2. Smirnoff.
Okay, it's no secret, Smirnoff Vodka is the World's Best Tasting Vodka (for people who typically drink gasoline or have no taste buds). It's also very evident they're way behind on the desert-flavored vodka trend. Oh, just now you're deciding to make whipped cream flavored vodka? Call up Pinnacle and Three Olives and ask if you can borrow your notes from the past two years. I would be very content to ignore their blatant disregard for punctuality if it hadn't been for their new advertising campaign and choice of spokesperson. Amber Rose? Seriously? Who knows what Amber Rose is famous for? If you guessed "banging Kanye West" you are correct! Oh, good to know that all you have to do to become the face of a vodka brand is get penetrated by an egotistical black man with a drinking problem. Get in line, sister. Who the hell assigned her any credibility? Also, have you seen the commercials? Not only are they terrible, but she speaks like she has down syndrome and is in the middle of having a stroke. I really find it offensive when people over-enunciate their consonants; it generally makes me feel like I'm watching Teen Mom (which I do, but only Tuesday nights at 10). Has everyone forgotten the art of reading out loud? Did everyone else in this country miss the first fucking grade? Also, the tag line is "Because Vodka Never Felt This Good." I disagree. NOTHING ABOUT SMIRNOFF FEELS GOOD. I have a very specific criteria I enforce while deciding on my libations, the general guideline being that if you have to bend over to pick it up off the shelf, you'll be bending over to throw it up at some point over the night. I'm going to ignore any sexual innuendo attempts by Smirnoff in replacing "tasted" with "felt" and continue to elaborate on how there is no activity you can do with a bottle of Smirnoff that will feel good. The last time I drank Smirnoff, I was in Vegas, and if I recall correctly, I couldn't feel a thing after that, so who knows if what went down was good or blatantly mediocre. Who. The hell knows. Furthermore, I've been campaigning for the past three years of my life to be sponsored by Three Olives. As in, I would like for them to send me free vodka and support my already expensive drinking habits. Why do people that suck at life keep getting the things I want?
3. The Holiday Season.
What the fuck is it about Jesus's birthday that causes everyone to turn into maniacs? Everyone within a four mile radius of any shopping plaza is rude. Nobody's happy about spending a ton of money on people you're forced to see. I hate forced interaction, and the holidays are a breeding ground for it. Oh, yay, let's all get together and stand around with people we don't like in the spirit of Christmas. The only type of holiday spirit I can ever get down with comes in a frosted bottle, and its name is Three Olives. If there was any way to skip this entire Christmas ordeal and go right to New Years, I'm all for it. Also, I really wish Starbucks would stop pushing it's peppermint agenda down everyone's throats.
Oh, and if anyone else gets engaged over the next two weeks, I'm going to throw up.
Happy holidays you ass clowns!
Friday, November 4, 2011
Word to Your Mom, I Came to Drop Bombs.
I've spent much of my youth searching for the meaning of life. Even though I've learned it's "fuck bitches, get money (repeat, one would presume)," I refused to accept the idea that all we ever will become is the sum of our choices and the legacy we leave.
What about the choices we don't make, and the legacy we could have left?
Don't feed me some "carpe diem" bullshit, and I swear, if you try to respond with "what's meant to be will find a way," I will respond with a roundhouse kick to your jaw.
I think that the majority of society encourages that the school-college-marriage-family (with a career thrown in) prototype be followed. I think this is because most people crave security. I think most people find comfort in challenges that have a definite reward. It's no surprise; there's a reason there are more people who decide to enter the business field than to pursue careers as freelance photographers. People like the idea of a salary, of a stable living situation.
But what about people who don't? How long does it take to realize that maybe, just maybe, you're not cut out to fit into the mold you've been trying so hard to fit into?
I know, this is some pretty cutting edge stuff, right? A 22 year old college dropout bartender who is contemplating her future. Hold on tight, I don't want to throw a curve ball at you with this new and revolutionary material.
In the midst of my most recent midlife crisis (I use this term lightly. I think it's a little arrogant and presumptuous to assume that 45 or so is the appropriate age for mid-life to occur at. How do I know when my life will end, and who am I to arbitrarily assign an age to it's halfway point? Thus, I've been having midlife crisis' since I was 13. I figure if I make it to 26, I can keep having them and increase my chances of making it to 52. If not, can't say I didn't try), I suddenly realized I've been living a huge fucking lie.
I generally was a high-achiever in life, in most categories: school, sports, etc. I've always been able to set goals and attain them, because I have an awesome work ethic. If something sparks my interest, I can guarantee I will work for it. I used to have such a spark and such drive to accomplish my goals. Once I went to college, that quickly fizzled. Most people figured it was the massive quantities of booze I consumed on a daily basis. Some blamed it on the cocaine. While I refused to let a substance take the blame for my motivational demise, I opted for the ultimate cop out - my general response when people inquired about my lack of scholastic success was that I "had no idea what I wanted to do with my life" and that I was "taking time to figure it out."
Okay, confession. I do know. But before we get there -
The term "suffering artist" irritates me. I feel there's a negative connotation that comes along with it, one that conjures the image of an under-fed, over-pretentious person dressed in tattered clothes who spends hours upon hours without human contact for the preservation of their craft. Truth be told, I think the real suffering artists are the people who hide what drives them, what moves them, what they're passionate about. I think the people who truly suffer are the ones who opt for the safer, more widely accepted versions of themselves and their created lives while they perfect the art of acting as if everything is fine. I think there's nothing worse than having to look back on your life and wish you had done it all differently.
That being said, at the young and completely oblivious age of 18, I pledged to get a degree and get a real job at some point in my life. Maybe in teaching (wait, I fucking hate children). Maybe in business? Sales, perhaps? I have been trudging along, trying to find my niche, hoping I can find a field I love and one that will appear to be grown up and mature. I was only kidding myself. The only reason I haven't finished school is because I don't want to, deep down. There has been something holding me back, and that's the knowledge that regardless of how much money I make be able to make at some PR job, I'll never be happy.
I really have two goals in life: to become a recluse and to be happy. I'm not talking about the circumstantial, fleeting moment of contentment. I want to be genuinely and wholly satisfied. I don't to have to keep moving around, searching for my missing piece.
That being said- Fuck you guys, I'm writing a book.
What about the choices we don't make, and the legacy we could have left?
Don't feed me some "carpe diem" bullshit, and I swear, if you try to respond with "what's meant to be will find a way," I will respond with a roundhouse kick to your jaw.
I think that the majority of society encourages that the school-college-marriage-family (with a career thrown in) prototype be followed. I think this is because most people crave security. I think most people find comfort in challenges that have a definite reward. It's no surprise; there's a reason there are more people who decide to enter the business field than to pursue careers as freelance photographers. People like the idea of a salary, of a stable living situation.
But what about people who don't? How long does it take to realize that maybe, just maybe, you're not cut out to fit into the mold you've been trying so hard to fit into?
I know, this is some pretty cutting edge stuff, right? A 22 year old college dropout bartender who is contemplating her future. Hold on tight, I don't want to throw a curve ball at you with this new and revolutionary material.
In the midst of my most recent midlife crisis (I use this term lightly. I think it's a little arrogant and presumptuous to assume that 45 or so is the appropriate age for mid-life to occur at. How do I know when my life will end, and who am I to arbitrarily assign an age to it's halfway point? Thus, I've been having midlife crisis' since I was 13. I figure if I make it to 26, I can keep having them and increase my chances of making it to 52. If not, can't say I didn't try), I suddenly realized I've been living a huge fucking lie.
I generally was a high-achiever in life, in most categories: school, sports, etc. I've always been able to set goals and attain them, because I have an awesome work ethic. If something sparks my interest, I can guarantee I will work for it. I used to have such a spark and such drive to accomplish my goals. Once I went to college, that quickly fizzled. Most people figured it was the massive quantities of booze I consumed on a daily basis. Some blamed it on the cocaine. While I refused to let a substance take the blame for my motivational demise, I opted for the ultimate cop out - my general response when people inquired about my lack of scholastic success was that I "had no idea what I wanted to do with my life" and that I was "taking time to figure it out."
Okay, confession. I do know. But before we get there -
The term "suffering artist" irritates me. I feel there's a negative connotation that comes along with it, one that conjures the image of an under-fed, over-pretentious person dressed in tattered clothes who spends hours upon hours without human contact for the preservation of their craft. Truth be told, I think the real suffering artists are the people who hide what drives them, what moves them, what they're passionate about. I think the people who truly suffer are the ones who opt for the safer, more widely accepted versions of themselves and their created lives while they perfect the art of acting as if everything is fine. I think there's nothing worse than having to look back on your life and wish you had done it all differently.
That being said, at the young and completely oblivious age of 18, I pledged to get a degree and get a real job at some point in my life. Maybe in teaching (wait, I fucking hate children). Maybe in business? Sales, perhaps? I have been trudging along, trying to find my niche, hoping I can find a field I love and one that will appear to be grown up and mature. I was only kidding myself. The only reason I haven't finished school is because I don't want to, deep down. There has been something holding me back, and that's the knowledge that regardless of how much money I make be able to make at some PR job, I'll never be happy.
I really have two goals in life: to become a recluse and to be happy. I'm not talking about the circumstantial, fleeting moment of contentment. I want to be genuinely and wholly satisfied. I don't to have to keep moving around, searching for my missing piece.
That being said- Fuck you guys, I'm writing a book.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Drink Like a Champion. No, Actually Do It.
In case anyone was wondering, I'm quite the judgmental bitch. I will form my opinion on any given situation within a matter of minutes. I can tell you exactly what I think of you within about ten minutes of speaking with you. Also, I enjoy concocting elaborate narratives about the lives and thoughts of individuals I observe while people watching. This being said, I think it's safe to say the main factor I judge people on is their choice in libations. I'll admit it, I have reached a new level of shallow. I no longer judge people based on their clothing or accessories, or even by their political beliefs (well, that's a lie. I still do that). I am a firm believer I can assume everything I need to know about an individual after I know what their booze of choice is.
Allow me to elaborate.
As someone who has been drinking heavily for at least the past 8 years of my life, I may not be able to pride myself in a lot of the decisions I've made while intoxicated, but I am definitely proud of my refinement in alcoholic taste. I no longer can stand the sight of cheap vodka and cringe at the idea of Nattie Light (if you grew up in Tolland, CT, you've probably blacked out on Dubra once or twice, and if you're me, you've drank an entire fifth of it and subsequently flashed Yank at the welcome back dance. That's neither here nor there).
So what are my first reactions to people who ask that their mixed drinks be made with bottom-shelf quality liquor, or get really excited that Bud Light and Coors Light are on draft? I either assume that they are either underage, or total white trash. Or total underage white trash. Either way, the level you drink at is an automatic indicator of your social status. Only the best people drink the best alcohol, duh.
As far as beers go, it's so basic to assume that the best beer you can get is Blue Moon. Allow me to introduce you to the 21st century, micro-brewery edition. Micro brews are a great way to explore various alcoholic tastes and various types of beer. Never heard of an IPA? Don't know the difference between an ale and a lager? Hone up on your beer knowledge! It will make you seem smarter, and will in turn, make you attractive to smarter people. You'll be trendier, and will appear much more refined than in your frat boy, Coors Light-drinking years. Also, micro-brews tend to have a higher a.b.v. than the standard light beer, and a much more tolerable flavor than the disgusting national brand heavy beer, so it will take less of them to achieve the party buzz you're seeking (recession tip). However, the stand-by's such as Coors Light and Bud Light are very useful when one needs to consume large quantities of beer in a limited amount of time (including, but not limited to, activities such as: chugging, shot gunning, beer pong, beer bat, flip cup, etc). This makes sense however, because nobody that is actually able to post all of their party pictures on Facebook plays those games on a regular basis anyway.
When it comes to wine, I am far from a connoisseur. However, I will maintain my knowledge that white zinfandel will always be stripper juice. That's a fact. And I judge people who claim to be "classy" while guzzling the rose wine (and most likely wearing a $19.99 pair of Charlotte Russe heels with matching earrings, belt, and chunky necklace to boot). Give up girl, and don't let your acrylics break when you hold onto the stemware.
As far as liquor goes, I really form my opinions on people when I view their hard liquor intake. Nothing makes me want to slap someone harder than those who drink fruity mixed drinks that are like, 1 part vodka to every 4 parts juice. If I wanted lemonade with a "splash" of booze, I'd go back to sixth grade, thanks. Go big or go home is what I say. Allow yourself a base liquor, and one mixer of choice. My personal favorite mixed drinks include: vodka & soda, vodka vodka & soda, tequila and OJ, tequila & soda with a splash of OJ, Jack on the rocks, vodka water with a splash of sour, and whiskey water with a splash of sour (to name a few). I refuse to drink vodka cranberries, and I advise others to do the same. Cranberry juice is only useful if you have a UTI, and if you're slamming vodka cranberries, I think you'd be better off spending the night finding the root of how you contracted the UTI in the first place. Detest Grey Goose, because it's over rated, and predictable. Instead, allow yourself to luxury of Belvedere or Hangar. There is nothing wrong with Ketel One. If you're balling on a budget, 3 Olives is a personal favorite of mine. The golden rule of liquor is that if you have to bend down to get it off the shelf, you could probably use it to clean your sink, and I don't like drinking Pine-Sol. My assessment of alcohol quality is derived from whether or not I could drink it on the rocks. If it's truly a decent spirit, I can enjoy it with just a little bit of ice. And a lot of good times.
As far as cocktails go, blue Long Islands and Electric Lemonades are for broke undergrads. I'm judging you, 42 year old woman, who asks for a Blue Long Island with extra lemons and a fucking cherry. I'm judging you.
Yes, fun shots are fun to do. For like, two rounds, on your 21st birthday. Grow a pair and shoot straight. Not only are birthday cake shots a pain in the ass for a bartender to make, but nothing flashes the "amateur" light like asking for a round of Dirty Girl Scouts, especially after your a few deep. Have you ever puked up creme de menthe? I don't recommend it.
Overall, I'd say that drinking is probably one of my favorite past times, aside from berating people (generally while drinking), and spending money (generally on alcohol). When you're this good at something, it's hard not to look down on those of lesser talent. But don't say I didn't try to help.
Allow me to elaborate.
As someone who has been drinking heavily for at least the past 8 years of my life, I may not be able to pride myself in a lot of the decisions I've made while intoxicated, but I am definitely proud of my refinement in alcoholic taste. I no longer can stand the sight of cheap vodka and cringe at the idea of Nattie Light (if you grew up in Tolland, CT, you've probably blacked out on Dubra once or twice, and if you're me, you've drank an entire fifth of it and subsequently flashed Yank at the welcome back dance. That's neither here nor there).
So what are my first reactions to people who ask that their mixed drinks be made with bottom-shelf quality liquor, or get really excited that Bud Light and Coors Light are on draft? I either assume that they are either underage, or total white trash. Or total underage white trash. Either way, the level you drink at is an automatic indicator of your social status. Only the best people drink the best alcohol, duh.
As far as beers go, it's so basic to assume that the best beer you can get is Blue Moon. Allow me to introduce you to the 21st century, micro-brewery edition. Micro brews are a great way to explore various alcoholic tastes and various types of beer. Never heard of an IPA? Don't know the difference between an ale and a lager? Hone up on your beer knowledge! It will make you seem smarter, and will in turn, make you attractive to smarter people. You'll be trendier, and will appear much more refined than in your frat boy, Coors Light-drinking years. Also, micro-brews tend to have a higher a.b.v. than the standard light beer, and a much more tolerable flavor than the disgusting national brand heavy beer, so it will take less of them to achieve the party buzz you're seeking (recession tip). However, the stand-by's such as Coors Light and Bud Light are very useful when one needs to consume large quantities of beer in a limited amount of time (including, but not limited to, activities such as: chugging, shot gunning, beer pong, beer bat, flip cup, etc). This makes sense however, because nobody that is actually able to post all of their party pictures on Facebook plays those games on a regular basis anyway.
When it comes to wine, I am far from a connoisseur. However, I will maintain my knowledge that white zinfandel will always be stripper juice. That's a fact. And I judge people who claim to be "classy" while guzzling the rose wine (and most likely wearing a $19.99 pair of Charlotte Russe heels with matching earrings, belt, and chunky necklace to boot). Give up girl, and don't let your acrylics break when you hold onto the stemware.
As far as liquor goes, I really form my opinions on people when I view their hard liquor intake. Nothing makes me want to slap someone harder than those who drink fruity mixed drinks that are like, 1 part vodka to every 4 parts juice. If I wanted lemonade with a "splash" of booze, I'd go back to sixth grade, thanks. Go big or go home is what I say. Allow yourself a base liquor, and one mixer of choice. My personal favorite mixed drinks include: vodka & soda, vodka vodka & soda, tequila and OJ, tequila & soda with a splash of OJ, Jack on the rocks, vodka water with a splash of sour, and whiskey water with a splash of sour (to name a few). I refuse to drink vodka cranberries, and I advise others to do the same. Cranberry juice is only useful if you have a UTI, and if you're slamming vodka cranberries, I think you'd be better off spending the night finding the root of how you contracted the UTI in the first place. Detest Grey Goose, because it's over rated, and predictable. Instead, allow yourself to luxury of Belvedere or Hangar. There is nothing wrong with Ketel One. If you're balling on a budget, 3 Olives is a personal favorite of mine. The golden rule of liquor is that if you have to bend down to get it off the shelf, you could probably use it to clean your sink, and I don't like drinking Pine-Sol. My assessment of alcohol quality is derived from whether or not I could drink it on the rocks. If it's truly a decent spirit, I can enjoy it with just a little bit of ice. And a lot of good times.
As far as cocktails go, blue Long Islands and Electric Lemonades are for broke undergrads. I'm judging you, 42 year old woman, who asks for a Blue Long Island with extra lemons and a fucking cherry. I'm judging you.
Yes, fun shots are fun to do. For like, two rounds, on your 21st birthday. Grow a pair and shoot straight. Not only are birthday cake shots a pain in the ass for a bartender to make, but nothing flashes the "amateur" light like asking for a round of Dirty Girl Scouts, especially after your a few deep. Have you ever puked up creme de menthe? I don't recommend it.
Overall, I'd say that drinking is probably one of my favorite past times, aside from berating people (generally while drinking), and spending money (generally on alcohol). When you're this good at something, it's hard not to look down on those of lesser talent. But don't say I didn't try to help.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Once You Put a Ring on it, Kindly Put a Muzzle on It Too.
I'd just like to make a PSA to anyone under the age of 25, on behalf of the better educated portion of America:
STOP FUCKING GETTING ENGAGED.
I may have a bit of a bias on this subject matter, because apparently, I'm the person you date before you date the person you're going to marry. Translation: I'm 3/3 in the game of ex-boyfriends who are now engaged to some foolish bitch. How do I know these girls are foolish bitches? Um, duh, because they're engaged to one of my ex-boyfriends, who are my ex's for a reason, and why any female would sign the next minimum of 3 years of their lives away to these buffoons escapes me.
I'm not against marriage, per say. I am all for throwing a fucking rager of a wedding. I TiVO "Say Yes to the Dress". However, I've had enough experience in my 22 years of life to know that marriage is definitely a flawed institution. Let's be real here, the divorce rate isn't around 50% for a reason, and I'll never fully believe in something that this great nation of ours limits to a certain portion of the population (okay, my one civil rights push, sorry, I had to)...if it's so great, why not let everyone in on it? And who the hell is Michele Bachmann or any other fundamentalist zealot to determine who can and can not wed (okay, another, sorry, this is an issue I'm really passionate about). I digress.
Things that annoy me about young engagements:
1. The majority of the people I know that are engaged and in my age group are engaged to the one and only significant other they've ever had. How the hell do you know someone's your soul mate when you don't have anything to compare it to? That's akin to believing vanilla ice cream is your favorite flavor when you've never tried anything else, such as Cherry Garcia (it's like crack, I swear). No wonder people find themselves in an unhappy marriage down the line; all the fun of planning a wedding, producing spawn, etc, are over, and then you're finally left realizing that this relationship you have is as good as it's going to get. After all the dust settles, you wonder if this is really how your life was supposed to wind up, if being 30 and a mother of 3 is really all fate had in store. No wonder people are unhappy.
2. Facebook is now a means of announcing your "big news." Okay what the fuck? I understand our daily lives have been subsidized by technology and social networking media, but if you didn't have the decency to at least personally notify people instead of updating your relationship status to "engaged" the minute you slip a ring on your finger, I'm judging you and the success of your relationship. My prediction? It won't be.
3. Nobody has the funds to purchase a ring worth mentioning right out of college. Or while still in college, for that matter. I'm sorry, but if anyone tried to pop the question with a sub-standard ring, I'd say no. This is the single most important piece of jewelry you'll ever wear, why the hell should it be anything less than perfect? The most popular response this statement receives are "you're materialistic (duh)" and "well, that's all they could afford right now." My rebuttal? Ex-fucking-actly. WAIT. Save up until you can get a bigger ring. If you're meant to be together, you will still be together a couple years down the road. What's the fucking hurry to dash down the aisle? Which brings me to my next grievance...
4. Nobody loves a shotgun wedding. I swear to fucking god, if I find myself at another backyard wedding without open bar, I'm going to lose it. Oh, that's all you cold afford for the time being? Please re-visit aggravation #3.
5. What the hell is wrong with your life that you're so desperate to end it before you've even made it to a quarter of a century? Are you really planning on such a short life that getting married at 23 is the only option? What the hell is there to look forward to in your years to come?
And for those who choose to ignore my feelings on the matter (which you shouldn't, because anyone with a brain will agree with me on them), at least be courteous and post lots of close up pictures from every angle of your engagement ring. I'm pretty sure there's a formula based on the cut, clarity, color and carat of the diamond in relation to how long the relationship will last. Oh there isn't, you say? I jest not, such guidelines exist. The formula is along these lines:
The bigger the rock, the better the relationship.
Material things are a great way of showing people you care. If you're like me, and incapable of expressing emotions other than anger (unless I'm completely inebriated, in which case, I don't mean it anyway), presents are a great way of telling someone you like them. I don't like retarded gestures of intimacy, and I hate PDAs, but I am an excellent gift giver. The only people who maintain the idea that money can't buy happiness and looks don't matter are the ugly and poor ones. I like to think that the size of the diamond on the engagement ring is a gauge of how much the suitor values his beloved. If I don't receive a ring that is worth as much as, if not more than, my fiance's car, I'm only going to think he values his own means of transportation more than he values having me in his life. Let's face it, nobody drives a car until they die (unless they are killed in a car accident). Not trying to be morbid, just being honest.
And even if the relationship heads south, I know for a fact diamonds have great resale value, AND, it's super easy to dismount your engagement ring diamond and turn it into a necklace or something. Or to sell it and buy a car.
Either way, I'm so over people expressing their nauseating love for one another when they don't have the slightest clue what love is, and I'm even more over people not showing off their "bling" immediately so I can form a complete opinion on the situation.
My advice? If you like it, don't put a ring on. Wait until you can't live without it, and have the funds to prove it.
STOP FUCKING GETTING ENGAGED.
I may have a bit of a bias on this subject matter, because apparently, I'm the person you date before you date the person you're going to marry. Translation: I'm 3/3 in the game of ex-boyfriends who are now engaged to some foolish bitch. How do I know these girls are foolish bitches? Um, duh, because they're engaged to one of my ex-boyfriends, who are my ex's for a reason, and why any female would sign the next minimum of 3 years of their lives away to these buffoons escapes me.
I'm not against marriage, per say. I am all for throwing a fucking rager of a wedding. I TiVO "Say Yes to the Dress". However, I've had enough experience in my 22 years of life to know that marriage is definitely a flawed institution. Let's be real here, the divorce rate isn't around 50% for a reason, and I'll never fully believe in something that this great nation of ours limits to a certain portion of the population (okay, my one civil rights push, sorry, I had to)...if it's so great, why not let everyone in on it? And who the hell is Michele Bachmann or any other fundamentalist zealot to determine who can and can not wed (okay, another, sorry, this is an issue I'm really passionate about). I digress.
Things that annoy me about young engagements:
1. The majority of the people I know that are engaged and in my age group are engaged to the one and only significant other they've ever had. How the hell do you know someone's your soul mate when you don't have anything to compare it to? That's akin to believing vanilla ice cream is your favorite flavor when you've never tried anything else, such as Cherry Garcia (it's like crack, I swear). No wonder people find themselves in an unhappy marriage down the line; all the fun of planning a wedding, producing spawn, etc, are over, and then you're finally left realizing that this relationship you have is as good as it's going to get. After all the dust settles, you wonder if this is really how your life was supposed to wind up, if being 30 and a mother of 3 is really all fate had in store. No wonder people are unhappy.
2. Facebook is now a means of announcing your "big news." Okay what the fuck? I understand our daily lives have been subsidized by technology and social networking media, but if you didn't have the decency to at least personally notify people instead of updating your relationship status to "engaged" the minute you slip a ring on your finger, I'm judging you and the success of your relationship. My prediction? It won't be.
3. Nobody has the funds to purchase a ring worth mentioning right out of college. Or while still in college, for that matter. I'm sorry, but if anyone tried to pop the question with a sub-standard ring, I'd say no. This is the single most important piece of jewelry you'll ever wear, why the hell should it be anything less than perfect? The most popular response this statement receives are "you're materialistic (duh)" and "well, that's all they could afford right now." My rebuttal? Ex-fucking-actly. WAIT. Save up until you can get a bigger ring. If you're meant to be together, you will still be together a couple years down the road. What's the fucking hurry to dash down the aisle? Which brings me to my next grievance...
4. Nobody loves a shotgun wedding. I swear to fucking god, if I find myself at another backyard wedding without open bar, I'm going to lose it. Oh, that's all you cold afford for the time being? Please re-visit aggravation #3.
5. What the hell is wrong with your life that you're so desperate to end it before you've even made it to a quarter of a century? Are you really planning on such a short life that getting married at 23 is the only option? What the hell is there to look forward to in your years to come?
And for those who choose to ignore my feelings on the matter (which you shouldn't, because anyone with a brain will agree with me on them), at least be courteous and post lots of close up pictures from every angle of your engagement ring. I'm pretty sure there's a formula based on the cut, clarity, color and carat of the diamond in relation to how long the relationship will last. Oh there isn't, you say? I jest not, such guidelines exist. The formula is along these lines:
The bigger the rock, the better the relationship.
Material things are a great way of showing people you care. If you're like me, and incapable of expressing emotions other than anger (unless I'm completely inebriated, in which case, I don't mean it anyway), presents are a great way of telling someone you like them. I don't like retarded gestures of intimacy, and I hate PDAs, but I am an excellent gift giver. The only people who maintain the idea that money can't buy happiness and looks don't matter are the ugly and poor ones. I like to think that the size of the diamond on the engagement ring is a gauge of how much the suitor values his beloved. If I don't receive a ring that is worth as much as, if not more than, my fiance's car, I'm only going to think he values his own means of transportation more than he values having me in his life. Let's face it, nobody drives a car until they die (unless they are killed in a car accident). Not trying to be morbid, just being honest.
And even if the relationship heads south, I know for a fact diamonds have great resale value, AND, it's super easy to dismount your engagement ring diamond and turn it into a necklace or something. Or to sell it and buy a car.
Either way, I'm so over people expressing their nauseating love for one another when they don't have the slightest clue what love is, and I'm even more over people not showing off their "bling" immediately so I can form a complete opinion on the situation.
My advice? If you like it, don't put a ring on. Wait until you can't live without it, and have the funds to prove it.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
I'm going to just dance my way out of this bad romance with this washed up pop star, for the love of Judas.
I have a confession to make: I'm over Lady Gaga.
I'm really over her. I know I'm serious about this because I'm not even going to handle being over her as I have in past scenarios; claiming I'm done with it to all of my friends, posting Facebook statuses about my new great outlook, and then calling the aforementioned situation some 46 times repeatedly after a few too many drinks. I'm not even over it in the sense that I say I'm done with and over it, and then wind up being found sitting in the corner of the shower drinking out of a bottle of Berringer's through a straw screaming Alanis Morrissette lyrics at the top of my lungs (you oughta know, for the record, that wasn't one of my proudest moments).
If you know anything about me, it's that I have an unrivaled affection and belief in pop culture, and most importantly, pop icons. I once had hopes that GaGa would be able to fall into the same category as the likes of Cher and Britney (duh, of course Britney).
When GaGa first came onto the music scene, she was a great performer with an eccentric look. Aside from her penchant for bedazzled leotards with shoulder pads, she was someone the general public could relate to, even in a small capacity. Here she was, performing fresh pop/dance music songs in fun, different outfits. Essentially, she was someone who was performing her mainstream music but putting her own look into it, which proved she was the ultimate proponent of expressing one's own individuality.
Lately, she's fallen off the deep end.
Hear my take on it here, and be sure to follow me on Twitter: @EngelBitch
http://soundcloud.com/engelbitch/is-gaga-over
I'm really over her. I know I'm serious about this because I'm not even going to handle being over her as I have in past scenarios; claiming I'm done with it to all of my friends, posting Facebook statuses about my new great outlook, and then calling the aforementioned situation some 46 times repeatedly after a few too many drinks. I'm not even over it in the sense that I say I'm done with and over it, and then wind up being found sitting in the corner of the shower drinking out of a bottle of Berringer's through a straw screaming Alanis Morrissette lyrics at the top of my lungs (you oughta know, for the record, that wasn't one of my proudest moments).
If you know anything about me, it's that I have an unrivaled affection and belief in pop culture, and most importantly, pop icons. I once had hopes that GaGa would be able to fall into the same category as the likes of Cher and Britney (duh, of course Britney).
When GaGa first came onto the music scene, she was a great performer with an eccentric look. Aside from her penchant for bedazzled leotards with shoulder pads, she was someone the general public could relate to, even in a small capacity. Here she was, performing fresh pop/dance music songs in fun, different outfits. Essentially, she was someone who was performing her mainstream music but putting her own look into it, which proved she was the ultimate proponent of expressing one's own individuality.
Lately, she's fallen off the deep end.
Hear my take on it here, and be sure to follow me on Twitter: @EngelBitch
http://soundcloud.com/engelbitch/is-gaga-over
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Let's Call a Spade a Spade Here People...
For those of you who live under a rock, or have morals, and haven't indulged in the greatest display of idiocracy on television, I would like to introduce you to Toddler's and Tiaras. It's a fantastic show on TLC (you know, the learning channel), that follows various toddlers throughout their journey towards the Ultimate Grand Supreme Title at local beauty pageants. Oh, and it's about their over bearing, pushy, and generally over-weight and under-educated stage mothers.
The show depicts the children, who can barely form sentences, getting spray tans and wearing fake sets of teeth, all in preparation for the upcoming beauty talent competitions. Generally, the children throw tantrums and cry about being paraded around on stage in front of judges while the mothers explain how their children just adore being pageant regulars.
All in all, it's the best display of bad parenting on TV, and it never fails to amuse me.
This past week's episode included a three year old who chose to dress as Julia Robert's character in Pretty Woman. She chose to sport the iconic outfit from the first scene of the movie, when Vivienne first seduces her Lotus-driving Prince Charming. Apparently, this has caused quite a bit of controversy.
I really don't see what the big deal is. Oh, all of a sudden this show is outrageous? It really took a little girl dressed as a hooker for people to realize this? Most of all, who really cares what the little girl was dressed as? It's not as if she understood what she was (unless her mother sat her down and explained to her what that costume symbolized, which is really, just a message that if you work hard enough and screw the right people, you can get anywhere in life).
And even supposing this child did fully comprehend what a prostitute is, let's be real here: this is probably the best action these parents have taken in preparing their daughters for the future. The likelihood of these children going anywhere in life besides a regional beauty pageant is virtually non existent. Just look at these parents: they're Southern, and fat, and completely out of touch with reality. These children have stupid names that set them up for failure as well. Who the fuck names their kid Paisley and thinks it's acceptable? I think it's a lot more outrageous to expect these children to do anything productive with themselves than to just admit that while yes, some children will grow up to be professional athletes and doctors and lawyers and politicians, some of them will inevitably have to grow up to be the strippers and prostitutes that attend to them.
In my opinion, at least this mother gave her daughter a realistic glimpse into her future.
Check out the clip here:
The show depicts the children, who can barely form sentences, getting spray tans and wearing fake sets of teeth, all in preparation for the upcoming beauty talent competitions. Generally, the children throw tantrums and cry about being paraded around on stage in front of judges while the mothers explain how their children just adore being pageant regulars.
All in all, it's the best display of bad parenting on TV, and it never fails to amuse me.
This past week's episode included a three year old who chose to dress as Julia Robert's character in Pretty Woman. She chose to sport the iconic outfit from the first scene of the movie, when Vivienne first seduces her Lotus-driving Prince Charming. Apparently, this has caused quite a bit of controversy.
I really don't see what the big deal is. Oh, all of a sudden this show is outrageous? It really took a little girl dressed as a hooker for people to realize this? Most of all, who really cares what the little girl was dressed as? It's not as if she understood what she was (unless her mother sat her down and explained to her what that costume symbolized, which is really, just a message that if you work hard enough and screw the right people, you can get anywhere in life).
And even supposing this child did fully comprehend what a prostitute is, let's be real here: this is probably the best action these parents have taken in preparing their daughters for the future. The likelihood of these children going anywhere in life besides a regional beauty pageant is virtually non existent. Just look at these parents: they're Southern, and fat, and completely out of touch with reality. These children have stupid names that set them up for failure as well. Who the fuck names their kid Paisley and thinks it's acceptable? I think it's a lot more outrageous to expect these children to do anything productive with themselves than to just admit that while yes, some children will grow up to be professional athletes and doctors and lawyers and politicians, some of them will inevitably have to grow up to be the strippers and prostitutes that attend to them.
In my opinion, at least this mother gave her daughter a realistic glimpse into her future.
Check out the clip here:
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