V-day is over! I hope you didn’t spend it snuggling your cat and watching True Romance (which has more guns and blood than romance…) alone in bed by yourself. I will skip the cupid bashing and provide you, instead, with a recipe for an alcoholic beverage.
Last week I went on over to my parents’ house to lounge by the fire and drink some cocktails made by my mix-master of a father. Unfortunately for me, the evening prior I allowed my coworker to heckle me into attending the swanky(that’s a joke, there is no swanky place in my city) viewing party of Cougar Town…even the producer said it was the wost name ever. At the party I watched the show for the first time ever, and sauced myself up on the open bar. I was feeling so swampy the next night I only had two sips of my drink. But here is my dad’s recipe, anyway!
2 oz. Vodka
1 oz. Pomegranate Cherry Blueberry Juice (a la Trader Joes…)
½ oz. Triple Sec
Shake over ice. Drink.
More on that viewing party: one of the actors from the show—who I had to IMDb while 2 feet away because I am totally clueless—called me a prostitute. Sort of. My lovely lush of a room-mate and I approached him and after a few minutes of playful banter on why Connecticut is terrible, but not as terrible as New Jersey, he made a joke about us being “working girls.” You see, my city is called The City That Works, so he found this amusing. It went a bit over my room-mate’s head, who had indulged in the open bar more heavily than I. “Yes! We’re working girls! I am in finance and Z is an editor.”
“…J…he just called us prostitutes…” was my response. Thanks Dan Byrd, wherever you are. Apparently this is socially acceptable behavior in Georgia, but not in Connecticut, my friend! May your hair stay in that helmet shape forever.
(The next guy J talked to made a joke about how he had chloroform waiting for her in his car. Rape jokes are a fantastic ice-breaker, apparently. Winner!)