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Laughs

Summer Cocktails

August 4, 2015

Today, I’m bringing something very special out of the vault. It’s a devilish punch that reminds me of younger, gloriously uninhibited days. Hold onto your dresses, dearies, it’s my favorite summer cocktail: The Sip and Go Naked. I had to share this recipe verbatim because my lovely college roommate (and new mommy), sweet sugar lips Sarah, emailed it to me a few months back in just this fashion.

sip and go naked

If I could remember them clearly, oh the stories I would tell; all beginning with a cup of this lemony libation laced with a wicked whisper of Southern Comfort. I recall dancing, perhaps on tables. I remember the kitchen floor, always sticky. We would slip on our black nylon pants and fanciest shirt (possibly one shoulder strap, definitely borderline slutty and Midwest sweetheart), plug in a string of party lights and deal out a game of Kings.

I can almost feel that indestructible, false sense of adulthood we had from our first year truly living on our own. We could have a party. We could smoke cigarettes out of the living room window. We could harass the elephant parade of freshman streaming in from the dorms looking for house parties. With a Sip and Go Naked in hand, we were living the dream and 100 percent invincible. (Granted, the house we rented was crawling with black mold and we only cleaned the toilets once every 3 months when someone’s folks were coming to visit, but that’s neither here nor there.)

But mostly, the smell of a frothy serving makes me think of Sarah, and the lively, lovely ball of joy she is. Isn’t that funny … how a smell can unlock a vault of moments you’d tucked away in a cobwebbed place in your mind? I can hear her, “Mmmmm, bitch! We’re gonna Sip and Go Naked!” with some Outkast blaring from our computers in the background. She’d dump in the prescription for the potent cocktail with abandon and intention, shakin’ her ass and grinning my ear to ear. It isn’t the tastiest drink I’ve ever had, but it is the most nostalgic.

Break out the blender, grab some cheap ingredients and Sip and Go Naked yourself. Quick … before summer’s gone!

Laughs

“I came in like a …”

March 7, 2015

Have you played Ellen Degeneres’ game, Heads Up? I’m telling ya, gather a handful of moms, a few bottles of wine and a basement for the older kids and it’s comparable to a trip to Vegas.

Some players are certainly sharper than others and, maybe it was the wine or the fact that … I don’t know … something else, but honestly, if I hadn’t been there to witness this* I wouldn’t believe it to be true. (You can stop watching at :31 unless you want to watch me shovel even more nuts into my mouth.):


*No babies were hurt in the making of this video. 

Laughs

Sittin’ with her Slither, Slither, Slither

February 16, 2015

Tune in today to see if she can … give a child a beloved stuffed animal sidekick in one easy misstep.

I have had some ugly coats, you guys. It’s not like I set out to make a name for myself with putrid outerwear. It just kind of happened. From my “fancy” pleather red trench with fake pockets, to a pseudo-sheep wool warmer from a 5-7-9-type joint, I guess it started in college. Then I had some decent years. (No, thank you, Target.)

But a revolting one-two punch of a fashion faux pas was brewing. There are those adorable gals who can carry a baby through the winter with just an endearing peek-a-boo from their blossoming belly thanks to an undone bottom button. Then there was me. I still remember my Mom picking up a maternity Emerald peacoat with a ruffly flair and dubbing it, “Adorable!”. If it sounds cute, I described it wrong. This jewel-toned shot of eye poison could only be dethroned by what would forever be referred to as, “the body bag” by my best girlfriends. I had asked Santa for a simple black winter jacket for my third pregnant Christmas. What I got was a dark, cylindrical cocoon of a coat with zippers down the side so that, if I were to grow beyond human comprehension, I could let them, as well as my girth, go completely.   

But the era of eyesores was ending. This past Christmas, I sent my mom a link. I had picked a perfect parka; the parka to undo my tumultuous track record. Cute, right?

Then something stupid happened. I washed and dried it without removing the tickly fur trim. It went from wispy to old woman wig in one cycle. Only then did I notice the convenient buttons, and remove the matted mess.

An hour later a sweet little voice said, “Mama, can I have the hair from your coat?” It was JoJo, holding the strip of fur that served as an adorable flourish just yesterday. “Sure,” I replied. “Yessss! It’s going to be my snake, Slither!” And with that, a friendship was born. Slither has accompanied her to school, slept coiled up next to her in bed and starred in this short thriller set in the suburban jungle.

It’s really cute, and maybe a little of this …

But certainly, with a track of button holes and no sweet fake fur trim to attach, the coat has lost a bit of its luster and my street cred is, yet again, the only true victim in this story.  I’ll go for cool again next Christmas.

Until next time …