So this was the other day, and I had a couple of friends over, and I decided to give my new blender a second chance by blending up pitchers and pitchers of daiquiris, and then consuming them single-mouthedly. See how forgiving I am?
Anyway, I am Madame La Dropsy on a regular day, so you can imagine the way things go after so much alcohol...the first thing to end up on my pants was cheese. And not just crumbs of cheese that could roll off somewhat tidily, but soft cheese, the kind that smears.
I wish I could say that it stopped with the cheese, but it didn't.
I was in the middle of an olive backlash.
The night before, I walked right by the olives without pouting too much. I never have olives when I'm out, because the thing about olives is that they roll. And once you have olives on the floor, it's not much of a party anymore. It's just a sprained ankle waiting to happen, and I don't want to be responsible for that. So I was munching on olives that night to make up for abstaining the night before, and as is my habit with olives, I was sucking out the pimento first, because....well, because. Because that's what I do. I guess I don't even have to tell you about the catastrophe that ensued. You can imagine.
And Anna said, "I saw that", and this from the girl who was compulsively yelling out "Johnny Cash!" in answer to questions that only she could hear.
It took a while before I could admit that I was 'a little bit drunk', and by that time I was a lot bit drunk. So drunk that when I woke up 3 hours later, I wasn't hungover, I was still drunk. But I got dressed and went to the birthday party anyway, because how often does a girl turn the big 3?
Julia was so proud of herself, she kept telling all her guests, "I'm 3, I'm a big girl now. I wear panties. See?"
Yes, Julia, I do see.
And you know what?
I was doing that very same thing myself last night...only my panties aren't Cinderella. I'm all about Dora the Explorer.
Anyways, when did 3 year olds start calling them panties? I think I'm still too embarrassed to call them panties. Undies it is, all the way.
10 comments:
ha-ha. i suck out the pimento first when i eat olives too. it's the only way to go! :)
a) Amy, that's nothing...I have an old friend who somehow works the fact that I once walked straight into a moving van into every third conversation, preferably in front of oodles of people (and in my defense, I must say that I am completely night blind, and this time, I had just walked out of a movie theatre and my pupils were doing a weird thing...and ditto for the time I walked into the tree).
b) Jenn, you just may be my new best friend. I don't have a fondness for pimento. Kelly asked if it tasted different from the olive, and I guess it must, but I really couldn't say. It's just habit. Who taught me how to eat an olive?
my boyfriend calls them "knickers." i laugh because it sounds so prissy.
Madame La Dropsy?
From this day forward that will be your new nickname around the house, gone are the days of Busty St. Claire.
-jason
xo
(Places hand on hip and taps foot)...AND WHERE WERE OUR DAIQUIRIS AND SQISHY CHEESE????? HMMMM???? LOL.
All I have to say is, after my lightening bug episode, spraining an ankle on an olive is something i could so see my clumsy self doing!
I've gotten into the habit of referring to all underwear as "pants", which I know will make no sense whenever I move back to America. Especially when I use "pants" as an interjection. Pants! See, it just doesn't translate ...
you see, the thing about your blog is that i only got through the first paragragh. i only got through the first paragraph because i thought you were making OLIVE DAIQUIRIS, and now that i've figured out you really weren't i have to go back and read the rest of it. that's the thing about olives.
3 yr old started calling them panties when companies started making thongs for 5 yr olds.... wasn't it Saturday Night Live that had a skit about Diaper Thongs??
All I can say is YUM TO DAQUIRIS!
Wanna make me one? : p
Sorry guys, actually, we had another daiquiri night last night, which is funny beccause Jason is not normally a daiquiri guy, but he did it for me, because I stopped taking my meds for 2 weeks of sins over the holidays, and this was my last big bang before going back on them. We went through so much liquor...a 750ml bottle, then a 375ml...and the thing about that is, I probably had at least that much to drink new year's eve, but you feel less guitly if you don't have to look at the empty bottles! Anyway, if you ever want a daiquiri, come on over. Any drink really, I used to bartend, I'm an excellent mixer.
Amy, of course I read the story, and yeah, that's one for the history books.
And Jin, don't feel too badly. I'm not just messy with food, I'm messy in general. Which is funny because I'm so tidy. I mean, my bedroom was never messy, I always make my bed, stuff is tidy...but then, once, I was sitting on the couch, and I dropped the remote (honestly, stuff just falls out of my hands somehow, all the freakin time!) and the remote, somehow, landed straight in my glass of juice that was on the floor, nothing but net, it never clanged the glass at all, just splash!
Berry juice all over the carpet...and a sticky, nonfunctioning remote that wasn't even ours, it belonged to the cable company for their digital cable whatever...so we retunred it to the store, paid an unbelievable price to replace it, brought it home, and I dropped martini all over it THAT VERY NIGHT.
That is the story of my life.
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