Head on the Bar. (yeah, yeah, I know....)
Look what happened to King George. He was sitting in his usual sunny spot in my kitchen window when I picked him up to play with him and lo and behold! his legs fell off! Gruesome, isn't it! My only guess as to what happened was that the cats, after listening to hours of NPR, destroyed him with great pleasure and abandon, and then felt guilty or afraid that I was going to beat them senseless, so they just put. him. back. right. where. they. found. him.See there, in the background? That's Sophie pretending she doesn't have a clue as to what all that is about. Going on her merry way. Whistling Dixie.
In other news, Daxie took yesterday's penniless wino comment to heart and took me to the Monkey Bar for an endless supply of whatever was my pleasure. (I HEART you, Dax!) Cute place, nice bartender, excellent sidecars though a paltry selection of whisky.
The sidecars were truly divine (and huge! I felt somewhat like this guy.) And after 1 1/2 sidecars and a Czar Nicholas, I was pretty much on the floor. It was pitiful. So we called it a day at around 8, I wandered home, ate a frozen enchilada*, went to bed, woke up every hour on the quarter hour until 4:15 when I decided to turn the lights on and finish History of Love. More on that later. Finished the book, attempted sleep. And now I'm up for the day. Over and out.
*For the record, the enchilada was not frozen when I ate it. I did heat it up before shoveling it into my face. I think part of the problem with my lack of, er, stamina, last night has to do with this new diet I'm on called the Frozen Enchilada Protracted Stress Diet. I can't remember the last time I sat down and actually ate a real meal on a plate at a table in a civilized fashion.
posted by Oy Vey at 9:00 AM
7 Comments:
Screw the restaurant business. Just write a diet book and make millions.
Mmm, whisky and enchilada diet. You'd make a fortune. In fact, perhaps you should start selling frozen enchiladas in New Zealand. We have a piss poor mexican food selection.
Will you two be representatives of the Miracle Enchilada Whisky Diet in your hometowns?
I promise stock options and free Cadillacs!
Ooh - I will be a Philly rep, if we can drink bourbon whiskey instead of Scotch.
ALthough, I must admit, I liked the cake batter & beer diet idea better.
GG: We'll have a Bourbon Alternative diet - and you can be the go-to girl for that; I'll stick with the Original. I loathe bourbon. It makes me seriously sick to my stomach to even smell the stuff. Blecgh.
Fantastic!
Incidentally, you're missin' out. Or perhaps I am? Damn Hawaiian Punch scarred me for life.
I'll do anything for a cadillac. We don't have many of them here either.
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