Restaurant Wars

All great restaurants are built on a single menu item that drives their patron's crazy. McDonald's has that classic Big Mac, Olive Garden has the best salad and breadsticks this side of Italy itself and The Cheesecake Factory is nothing without that fried macaroni (and of course... cheesecake). Now I never fancied myself a restaurateur, until today. Just when I thought I wasn't going to have a breakthrough today, I had the epiphany of a lifetime: I came up with a signature dessert for my restaurant! A Champagne Float!

Simply scoop some rainbow sherbet into a glass and top with champagne. Honestly, eating this delectable treat was like walking on a cloud with the man himself... so good. People will come from near and far, make reservations and stand in line with those buzzing light up things for up to 25 minutes in order to rush through their meal and have one of these soon to be famous treats that they could easily make at home but will swear it tastes better at Mark's Restaurant (the name of the establishment is for a later brainstorm). I can already see the line extension. This time next year, drinkers, prayers, and lovers, I will be sitting on a cash cow shaped like your neighborhood restaurant, only better... mine will have Champagne Floats!

So Let It Be Written:

So a couple of days ago, I was attempting to coin a new phrase. I was going out on a Tuesday and thought to myself, we have Thirsty Thursday-Sunday Funday covered. If you go out on a Monday, hopefully its to your local AA chapter, but what about Tuesday? This oft forgotten day of revelry deserves its own Bacchus inspired nickname. And what did I come up with? Tuesday Boozeday. So let it be written, so let it be done.

No one said that Tuesday had to be the ugly stepchild of the rest of the week. Sure, it's pretty clear that Friday and Saturday nights still reign supreme to this drink-pray-lover, but if my quest is to get married AND learn how to dougie before the Zombies take over in 11 and a half months, we're going to have to pull in some serious overtime.

My meditations have taken me near and far, folks, and the heart o' the matter is Tuesdays have been ridiculed and forgotten for far to long. The buck stops here. Happy weekend, drinkers, prayers and lovers. Until next time.

The "Hi" in Hiatus

Its been twelve days since my last major breakthrough and post... you see, when I don't meditate and drink and search for love, I have nothing to really write about (at least on this site. I spend 50% of my day writing other mundane things). But this afternoon, I realized, the reason I haven't updated isn't because I have nothing going on... on the contrary, the reason I haven't updated is because I'm actually doing things. Just the other day, I took a huge step in the right direction of my career as a Hollywood startlett. Whether that step pays off is yet to be seen, but I took it nonetheless. And just a few days before that, I made a pact with a friend of mine over margaritas with salt on the rim (rim, rim, rim, rim) that by the end of the 2011, and presumably the end of the world, both of us would be married... no excuses, no pretense. 2011 is about finding someone to love me... 2012 is about surviving the apocalypse. It's now or never. With my career and my love life making a giant leap so far this year, I simply haven't found time meditate and write about it...

So when you don't hear from me, drinkers, prayers, and lovers, don't assume that I've put the bottle down and checked into Promises Rehab Facility opposite A.J. McLean. On the contrary, I'm living my life... sometimes with bottle in hand. It's going to be a great year, I can feel it already. Until next time. Drink.Pray.Love.

So Resolute.

It's a new year. 2010 is gone and 2011 is here to stay for the next 365 days. As is the case every new year, I'm sure people are filled with a mixture of equal parts anticipation, excitement and nervousness.

I, for one, am not the kind of person to make long lists of resolutions. I think that making New Years resolutions only sets one up for sheer disappointment. Sure you can stick to your diet plan or sleep schedule for so long, but the day you slip into last year's habit, you have to live with the shame of knowing that your entire year is one giant waste. I stopped resolving to do anything back in 2004 and its worked out well for me. Until now.

While meditating over a homemade concoction of Whiskey/Rum with water, I thought to myself, this is the year I change it up. I need a goal for 2011; not one that simply entails chronicling my drinking, self exploration and quest for love on this daily blog, but something a little more meaningful.

And so I resolved in 2011 to: Learn to dougie, become a firework, get my minister's license renewed for another year, watch every single Meryl Streep movie and study the Streep technique, write a Pelican-like brief, take a cosmotology class, and become a firework. If I happen to accomplish all of these goals before 2012, it would have been a great year. If I don't... well we'll see what the Mayans have to say about that. Happy New Years. Drink.Pray.Love

In an Instant Watch

All of this family time has admittedly gotten in the way of my own self exploration and meditation. Which is why when things slowed down on Monday, I took to my instant watch Netflix account and finished the show I had been marathoning before the holidays took their liquid toll. See, part of my praying regiment includes spending ample time alone, headphones on, watching Glenn Close kick some serious ass in Damages (side bar, Your Honor. I hesitated to watch Damages because I was still traumatized by Glenn Close's crazy from 101 Dalmations...)

Like all good things, however, Damages came to end. At least the episodes I'm allowed to access at the drop of a dime came to an end. My instant watch queue was empty. An empty instant watch queue is a very stressful thing for me. 1. I have a morbid fear of trying new things-- it isn't that uncommon. It's why so many people order the same meal from restaurants. 2. Deciding what show to marathon next is one of the most stressful things in the world. Sometimes you pick gems (10 Items of Less) and sometimes you pick duds (The Adventures of Lewis and Clark-- Superman!). I wasn't about to get hustled into watching another three episodes of Teri Hatcher having a bad hair season, so I took this selection process a little bit more seriously.

You see, I looked inwards, and over a glass of Manzanita Sol and whiskey, decided that I wanted to watch a show that wasn't going to end on me, lest I find myself in this same position in a couple of weeks. I needed to pick something that I could become addicted to and watch for years and years to come. There was really only one option, and I am proud to announce that my drinking, praying and loving has finally paid off into my first adult decision. My next Netflix marathon is Law & Order. The show has been on since the dawn of time, I'm sure God himself created it on the third or fourth day. The show has so many spinoffs, I will never run out of things to watch. I mean, SVU, CI, CMI, TMI, STD, you name it and there is a Law & Order spinoff about it. Lastly, Mariska Hargitay is the closest thing television has to a Meryl Streep.

This decision is proof that a little soul searching and a lot of Manzanita Sol can help solve any of life's problems. Until next time... drink.pray.love.

...Shame On You

Every home cook knows that there is that recipe that always plagues you. For me, it used to be Coq au Vin. And then I cooked Coq au Vin over and over using different varieties of vin until I mastered the recipe. (It turns out the problem with my coq au vin was that I ended up drinking too much of vin and not putting enough with my coq. Once I put the bottle down, my aged bird cooked up nicely and it was the hit of the potluck.

Then came Egg Nog. If you've been following this blog, you know how stressful cooking egg nog has been for me since that fateful Christmas Eve six years ago when our Egg Nog resembled sweet scrambled eggs in warm nutmeg sauce. The undrinkable putrid mess was so foul even our neighborhood scoundrel dogs left our trash cans alone for a solid two weeks.

Yesterday, I redeemed myself. Following a simpler, harder to screw up recipe, I whisked my eggs and whiskey into a tasty, delectable treat. In fact, the night cap only got better with each glass. The frothy goodness truly put me into a state of euphoria untasted since my first Round Up Margarita. Fool me once, Egg Nog, shame on you. Fool me twice... well time has told that you can't fool me twice. Have a happy holiday drinkers, prayers and lovers. I'll pour one out to you, my homies.

Fool Me Once...

Last night I returned to Aspen Creek. Why? You might ask. Why go to the same place you went to for last week's Thirsty Thursday? Why rinse and repeat those oh so delicious margaritas? The answer is simple... if ain't broken, don't fix it.

But sometimes it is broken and sometimes you must fix it. For example, Egg Nog-gate 2005. Yes folks, over a batch of two buck tasties, my sister and I decided that we were going to tread down those familiar pastures yet again. Tonight marks the fifth anniversary of our infamously undrinkable egg nog and tonight, we will attempt to set things right. We're making a new batch.

I found a simple enough recipe online (its a miracle, that Google search) and I will return here tomorrow morning to let you know how we did (if we are successful, I may not return until tomorrow afternoon). Happy Holidays, drinkers, prayers and lovers... this one goes out to you.