Someone gave Mr. Husband a bottle of Grey Goose for ChrisYuleHanukKawanzaaMas (and a Festivus for the rest of us) this year.

While out shopping I found a jar of green olives spiked with vermouth.

One thing led to another and I ended up in front of the computer with One Mean Martini.

The trick to a great martini, I have found, is to add a bit of the juice from the olives and since this brand of olives already included just a hint of vermouth I didn’t need to add my own (dry, not sweet EW!).

I’m not big on adding bunches of frilly ingredients to my martinis either. Adding chocolate and frosting to a muffin makes it a CUPCAKE in my book. And so adding extra crap to a martini makes it a girly drink and the martini ceases to exist. For example: Adding Bailey’s and Kahlua to a martini essentially makes it a mudslide in a martini glass, right? Not that I’m against girly drinks, but if I want a martini, I want a freakin martini.

P.S. I’m not blitzed enough–as I’ve just started the first drink–to put together a really decent drunkpost but if you really want me to, I suppose I could knock back a few more and pull something digitally garbled and slurred from somewhere in my addled mind for you to raise an eyebrow at.

Really, though, I think one is enough. I’ve always been a lightweight, but when you haven’t had anything to drink for almost a year the spirits tend to affect you just a weencie bit more than they used to. Not that I’m complaining. Being a cheap date means I don’t have to spend so much money on myself for the same results.
P.P.S. I finally finished off that gigantic bottle of Six Vodka that I bought for myself while I was in California.  (Mr. Husband doesn’t do martinis.)  Yack. Don’t bother. It’s not worth it. I should have tossed it or given it away when TMO came for my things. BLAST that ‘waste not want not’ trait. I must have inherited it from my mother.

Mr. Husband went to pick up the pictures I took of Miss Shake’n'Bake and ordered prints of this evening. This was sitting on my desk when I got home from class.

Seriously, this totally made my entire holiday season bright and squishy like radioactive taffy.

(Do I need to tell you to click the thumbnail to make it bigger?)

Apparently the guy in charge of the Wal Mart photo counter was giving Husband the stink-eye and interrogated him as to who REALLY took the photos. Copyright issues?

I guess those photo classes I took in ancient high school really payed off. It would probably pay even more if I took pictures of babies for a living.

I don’t.

I just saw over at WWdN that Peter Jackson has finally agreed to sign on with The Hobbit. I’d been wondering about that for quite some time. It just didn’t make sense, what with the truckloads of cash they made off the first three films, that they wouldn’t go ahead and film the first book. Granted Mr. Jackson wanted his own truckoads of cash for his involvement, but doesn’t he deserve them? I’m somewhat disappointed that he won’t actually be directing this time (bhooo) but at least they’re going to go ahead with the project (yaaaay) and I’m MORE than willing to wait for them to decide upon the perfect director. Quality over speed, you know.

Still… *starts crossing off the days*

For yummy recipes!

Speaking of parties (note my last entry), if I had the energy to throw a holiday party I would, but as I look around at the disaster that I call Home (okay, it’s not THAT bad but it could be less cluttered) I think, “Why bother? I’ll go to someone else’s party and they can muck with the cleanup afterward.”

Besides, I have my fun old PC to boogie with, right? I thought I might whip up a few of these holiday cocktails that I found on the Fine Living web page to make my reformatting party a bit more lively.

To be honest, I wasn’t really looking at the Fine Living page when I started out. I was actually looking up a recipe for Famous Dave’s kick ass ribs while procrastinating on the reformatting and the link was at the bottom of one of my search results. And what goes better with Christmas BBQ ribs than liquor? I sure can’t think of anything, can you?

Still, some of those drinks are a bit fancy-schmancy for me. In the end, nothing beats a good hot Tom & Jerry (recipe posted after the cut).

Or maybe a tall glass of Guinness.

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I’m seriously considering a complete nuke and pave on the machine I’m running. I stupidly downloaded a virus (not looking at porn, THANKS, I was trying to crack a shareware game heh heh) and for the past week I’ve been chasing phantom trojans and spyware all over my C: drive. I’ve yet to pinpoint the root beastie and so after I delete two nasties, four more pop up in their place. I feel like I’m battling the Hydra.

I wish I could say that reformatting my hard drive is the last thing I want to do on a Saturday night but if you think about the things I normally do on the weekends (or any other day for that matter),  partying with my PC is a wild time comparatively.

when you can do it yourself?

Mr. Husband and I just got back from seeing Trans Siberian Orchestra this evening and aside from feeling like I’ve just been raped in the corneas, it was freakin AWESOME!

What’s with all these recent pictures of Jennifer Love Hewitt that have been splashed around television and the internets lately? You know the ones. Black bikini? Taken at an unflattering angel? I saw a few of the pictures after the last episode of The Simpsons ran for the night and that God Awful TMZ show came on. I didn’t change channels fast enough and caught a glimpse of what I figured was a completely normal looking woman.

I’m sickened that anyone would call this fat and then wonder why teenage girls are starving themselves and forcing themselves to throw up just to reach the level of skinny that the media thinks they should be.

But on the other hand I’m kind of perplexed at Hewitt’s response to people’s opinions of the pictures:

“A size 2 is not fat! Nor will it ever be,” Hewitt responded. “And being a size 0 doesn’t make you beautiful.”

Hold on, now. That is a size TWO? If that is a size two then, at a size 7/8, I’m wearing clown pants. Where the hell are you shopping, Ms. Hewitt? If you’re going to be a size six or eight or even a freaking twenty four then don’t lie about it. You’re only reinforcing the, “I’m insecure about my weight” mentality with that load of hooey.

And for those of you who don’t know, I may not have the twiggy body that I sported in high school (and especially after squeezing a small human into the world about 3 months ago), but this is not a picture of a size two ass. A shame, yes, as I should really be better about whipping myself into shape, but there you have it…

While my daughter sits in front of the TV enjoying the antics of Blue and his felt friends I’m right there with her, but I’m thoroughly enjoying the host. Either of them. We’re talking Blue’s Clues here and not the spin off as I haven’t seen that one yet, but I’m sure Blue’s owner in that version is just as delicious if it’s a continuing trend.

Anyway, I suppose that if I have to endure half an hour of preschooler entertainment, the least the producers could do is toss me a bit of eye candy to enjoy with my morning coffee.

Hey, at least they’re in my age group and I don’t have to feel too guilty. Like… when I’m watching Harry Potter and catch myself thinking that Daniel Radcliffe is hot.