August 01, 2008
Sticks and Stones
Tonight, Matt and I are hosting the Sticks and Stones Party. Similar to 2007's Ball Ball, Sticks and Stones will pay tribute to ball-based cuisine but this year we've thrown a spoke in the works. Or a stick in the spoke. Whatever. Stick-based cuisine will also be on the menu.
Pulling the decorations for the party together pretty much equals taking down the sex swing and buying some plastic forks so I was doubly pleased with myself for having the gumption (and credit-based buying power) to go get some flowers from an actual (non-grocery store) florist for the occasion. And lookee what I done got!
Awww! I even pulled some of the parsnips or kumquats or cucumbers or whatever those things are out of the bottom of the vase BECAUSE I'M AWESOMELY SKILLED LIKE THAT.
Next on the list: wash Kryten dirt off of the baseboards. It's only about 110 degrees here so I'm looking forward to accomplishing about 15-percent of my chore list before collapsing from heat stroke. Good times.
Posted by Bree at 02:05 PM | Comments (2)
April 13, 2008
Zwild, Zwonderful, ZWACK
I ate my garnish.
Imagine my surprise and delight when a PR rep for Diageo contacted me recently about the stateside launch for Zwack, a Hungarian liqueur (known as Unicum overseas) that's been lubricatin' Eastern Europe since 1790.
"1790," I said. "I've never even heard of 1790."
The Zwack flack graciously took the whole noble savage aspect of my personality in stride and, proving the legendary hospitality of the Hungarians once again, mailed me my very own bottle of Zwack for the sipping. Never one to look a boozehound in the mouth, I quickly formulated a plan to test drive the stuff and report back to you, my beloved readership of 12 (aka Zwack's next big market segment).
After consulting the interwebs for Zwack recipes (there are basically three - and one of those is a shot of Zwack), we busted out the goods this morning for a round of "Bloody Huns" - V8 spicy tomato juice, tabasco, horseradish, celery and, of course, Zwack.
Verdict: taste-o. 'twere mellow, 'twere refreshing, 'twere zwacktacular. Aside from the slight hint of Jaeger hidden in its silky sleeves (a slight hint that, truly, brought me back to the days of vomiting out of car windows and passing out in the dirty laundry pile at my parents' house), my fellow tasters and I were really pleased. While I don't know if it's got the kick in the ass needed for a good night of brawling and balling, I will most certainly break it out the next time I do some more refined entertaining. Like my biweekly three-bean salad celebration. Or the "Parade of Omelets" coming in late spring, for which I think it would make a graceful accompaniment.
Posted by Bree at 10:51 PM | Comments (0)
April 03, 2008
Question
Is 3:19 p.m. too early to start drinking?
Posted by Bree at 03:18 PM | Comments (2)
August 29, 2007
Breegains
Heyyyyy youuuu guyyyys! 20 percent off at My Wines Direct. Use coupon code MWDFF at checkout (good one time, and one time only per dipso). I'm heading over right now to check out their selection of Franciscan and Ridge, as I tend to stick to my favorites - and those be them.
Also go HERE to download and print a coupon (good 'til Saturday) for buy one, get one free at Target Starbucks.
Posted by Bree at 12:21 PM | Comments (0)
August 09, 2007
Mistake!
Achhh! I made the wicked mistake of striking up a conversation with (and giving my name and number to) a manager of a wine shop here in town regarding a couple of cheapo Argentinian selections, and now the dude calls me CONSTANTLY. Seriously. Fielded a ring from him in the middle of the Ball Ball (uhm...about 9 p.m. on Saturday) and he just left another message wondering whether I wanted the Zolo Malbec or Torrontes, and could I please call him back as soon as possible to let him know.
Dude.
NEITHER.
This girly's surly and no you most certainly cannot go for a ride in her curly wurly.
Back the fuck off.
UPDATE: I swear to the allmitey, HE JUST CALLED AGAIN. Lesson learned - NEVER give your number to a liquor store manager. NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER OH MY GOD, WHEN WILL IT END?!!!!
Posted by Bree at 12:41 PM | Comments (0)
August 04, 2007
Let Them Eat Balls!
Here's hoping this magnificent example of cakery stays true to its inspiration and, er...tastes better than it looks.
Posted by Bree at 05:29 PM | Comments (0)
August 03, 2007
The Ball Ball Cometh
Tomorrow, many of the Colorado crew will join together at my crib in a semi-formal celebration of ball-based cuisine and going-away party for Rick known simply as THE BALL BALL.
The innuendo may be fast and furious, but the mandate is simple: invitees must revel in the delight and deliciousness that balls bring to our lives. In keeping, they also must bring a dish of their favorite balls. As well as help me kick the keg I just ordered, drop the hammer on some serious funk in the backyard and show the new neighbors that this little Yankee whirlwind of peel-outs and poor gardening is a master of balls-to-the-wall-berserkitude when it comes right down to it.
I wish all of you who aren't here, were.
'cause I know how much you like balls too.
I do. I've seen the video.
Posted by Bree at 07:53 PM | Comments (0)
February 07, 2007
Even More Stock Show Pickr on Flickr
Photo curtsy Brownies
Pass the whiskey, pardner.
Rope 'em up in proper order here.
Posted by Bree at 05:24 PM | Comments (0)
Caress My Longhorn
Heee...just got a call that my drinking partner for tonight got so drunk last night on Crown and Cokes that she BOOTED. My kind of girl.
Anys, after spending most of today in the FUNK TRUNK (er...not even worth elaborating on, but let's just say: once a DBag, always a DBag. This Bree needs to stop being surprised.), I needs me an hour of happy. We'll be hitting Sengers (nee The Longhorn, nee "that gay bar") on Colfax. You should come. And if you do, feel free to seek me out: I'll be the one facedown in a platter of plentitude.
Posted by Bree at 12:56 PM | Comments (0)
August 29, 2006
Suddenly the Cameras Make A Lot More Sense
Saturday night from about 11 to, oh, about 12:30, a group of us checked out a new joint called RockBar. Kind of OK - I dug. I'll be there again. And although we were sitting in a big booth in the back - near the dance floor - and noticed guys with cameras - the synapse that we were thisclose to the Real World Denver cast never quite fired. I blame the several rounds of twofers at Bastien's immediately preceding. But enough about me:
On Saturday [The Real World] cast and crew visited another Jesse Moreale-owned bar, the brand-new RockBar virtually across the street from Mezcal on East Colfax. The 2,000-square-foot, ’70s and ’80s rock-themed bar in the All-In Motel — a storied dive estbalishment — just opened on Friday, so “The Real World” obviously wasn’t wasting any time checking it out.The cast showed up around 11 p.m. and stayed for about an hour and a half, buying shots at the bar and hanging out in the Metallica/Pantera/Tool booth (all the booths are band-themed, including pictures of Hendrix, Guns n’ Roses, Scorpions and Iron Maiden). Their big booth in the back of the bar was right next to the dance floor, although it’s unclear if they cut loose like they have in other settings.
While I don't think we're going to make it into the final edit of "The Real World: Wildin' Out on Colfax," I can rest easy knowing that fame of another sort is still well within my grasp:
Posted by Bree at 02:30 PM | Comments (0)
August 24, 2006
Why Put Off Til 6:45 what you can do at 6:30?
In an effort to totally procrastinate and avoid getting ready to go out tonight, let me give you a few choice quotes from my girl in Denver yesterday. These have been cracking me up all the live-long...
"Ironing? Ironing is so over!"
"It smells like baby diapers in here. I like that smell."
"I want to get drunk...with youuuuuuuuuuuuuu."
"I'm just worried...I'm worried about your walls...about what your walls are gonna look like when you take all this stuff down."
"Those are emo-pants! Those are emotional pants!"
Etcetera.
It was quite an evening.
Posted by Bree at 06:26 PM | Comments (0)
May 18, 2006
Wine Chick? Moi? C'est Vrai!
Such exciting developments on the whole "Adventures in Alcoholism: The Justification Sessions" front! I just got a new writing gig for The Wine Chicks, a styling, profiling and downright sassy blog about wine and the ladies who quaff it.
You know what this means?
First off? Legitimacy. Just like Hammer.
Next off? The ability to serve up vitis veritas to an even wider audience than Tan, Daniel and my Dad. I've been polishing my repartee all night.
So, next time you need some advice from the hip dipso, just flash your stemware spotlight into the night sky. Or point your browser towards the aforementioned. Or call me. Whatever's most convenient. I'm totally free.
Posted by Bree at 10:47 AM | Comments (0)
May 15, 2006
Hump Night at Capuvino
Special Announcement to the Denver Dumb Friends League:
I'll be working it (thassright) at a white wine tasting this Wednesday evening. Little more information - as well as pictures that will likely convince you not to come - can be found here. Though the whole "light whites" thing is pretty vague, one thing is certain: I will be sporting something that shows off my underpinnings in an inappropriate way. I also will be wearing an apron and acting subservient. And if that's not hot...
Side note to East Coast contigent: the dumb friends thing? That's what people out here call pets. The Dumb Friends League is their ASPCA. And they make fun of ME for thinking that is the most hilariously offensive yet deliciously appealing phrase ever uttered west of the great Mississipp. I have yet to wrap my mind around this world, that much is clear.
Posted by Bree at 01:54 PM | Comments (0)
May 01, 2006
HamJam '06: Pork 'til You Puke
My first party in D-town Down went off without a hitch. Between the ham, the ham appetizers, the ham aptitude and the ham attitude, we all celebrated our favorite meat with great abandon. And by abandon, I mean sangria, Pimms, stag head duels, one (1) date flip-out and doorslam, and a couple of odd girls doing yoga in my living room.
Check out Flickr for a second helping in reverse chronological order. How fancy!
Posted by Bree at 12:21 PM | Comments (0)
February 27, 2006
Bungle in the Jungle
Honorary Jungle Wing-man Chris Dockum took a break from educating and engaging children of the South Bronx to come visit the Loomis lunatics this past weekend. In short order: dinner was served. Pie was thrown. Pimms was had. Gossip was bandied. Dancing was enjoyed...and enjoyed some more. Details are fuzzy, but somewhere in there, a burrito exploded all over Marie's car and I met a bald 43-year-old tour guide who might actually still be waiting for me to come over and have a beer with him.
Give me five seconds, dude! I'll be right there!
Hard to believe I've been hanging with these hooligans for twelve years now, but hell - they're so damned good-looking, I can't keep away.
Posted by Bree at 01:13 PM | Comments (1)
February 06, 2006
STD (the good kind)
It looks like Denver's got its hooks in me. I think I'm staying, at least for a time.
So what?
So let's dance!
That said, my return to NYC on March 10 will bring us all a prime opportunity to have one final blow-out at the N*ely's favorite vodka hall, The Russian Samovar. Call it a 30th birthday party, call it a going-away party, call it a chance to pretend you're 24 again - whatever you call it, be sure to save the night of March 11th for some. serious. serious. fun.
Serious.
Just ask Nicole Kidman:
Ooooh, I'm already atwitter!!! Get your party pants READY people!
Posted by Bree at 10:13 AM | Comments (0)
January 30, 2006
Hard to Beat (even for the Beat Officers)
These past few days have been utterly fantastic, in about 300 different ways.
Not least of which was seeing one of my best friends cage dance...but I get ahead of myself.
On Thursday, I met with a counselor from the Denver Small Business Development Center, which is run in conjunction with the Small Business Administration. His name? Abram Sloss. His game? Listening to my plan and lending some stone-cold excellent advice. An hour and a half after meeting him, and having a totally candid and funny conversation, I walked out of the office buoyed with hope and ambition. He dug my ideas, dug me, and said I could call him or come meet with him any time.
Duuuude. I think I just really lucked out with this one. He's started up businesses in Denver before and is just doing this counseling thing to keep him kind of occupied while he hunts around for his next gig. I assured him that I would keep him occupied...for years to come. He also seems like a bit of a rulebreaker, which suits me...just...right.
So, hot off the heels of my time with Abram Sloss-some, I swung by the aforementioned Bounce/Lounge to introduce myself to the owner - and her mother. Literally, these women couldn't have been sweeter if they'd been coated in Splenda, sauteed in butterscotch and served on a bed of cotton candy. Between the two of them, they called me, "Honey" about 15 times. The owner, whose business card - incidentally - lists her occupation as, "The Shit," said she'd love to get a beer and give me the full scoop about running a bar in Denver when she returns to town in a few weeks.
That should be illuminating, in every sense of the word. I'm sure her perspective will be invaluable.
I also like beer. Win win.
THEN - things just got better and better. With Allison, Marie and I enjoying a Reunite on Ice, events took a turn for the familiar: skiing, dranking, fighting with bartenders, getting free rounds, dancing...you know. The basics.
Click through for pictures...
Hellllloooo Winter Park! I busted out my killer new skis and boots on this trip and must say, bypassing the plague of "numb foot dented shin" I've been experiencing with rentals made my day. I was popping flips, skiing backwards, jumping off the chairlift into 10 feet of powder, hauling down back-country hills to avoid being shot by avalanche guns...oh man...you should've seen it.
While Allison determined that nothing would suit the Colorado slopes better than an incredibly fetching and stylish chapeau offset by a hot pink neck wrap, I chose to accent my outfit with a dash of "crazy face."
My little Darth Vader.
Back in Denver, we decided to start the night with some wine. Then some margaritas. Then some vodka drinks. Then some beer. Then some clubs. Then some more drinks. Then some fighting off a 20-year old muscle-head named Fred. Then some burritos. Then some taxis.
And then? Then some broooootal hangovers.
Though nothing could beat a night spent watching a 6th grade teacher cage dance...
A couple of drunk girls consider playing Twister...
Go through with it...
And then wisely forego additonal Twister to enjoy some hearty servings of dance floor man meat...
But nothing - nothing - could be a better topper to our day than this: MY FAVORITE PICTURE EVER.
Behold the beauty:
My work here is through.
Posted by Bree at 08:12 AM | Comments (0)
January 26, 2006
Doomed...But in a Good Way
Our former housemate, the Honorable Sal Honor, is currently en route to Denver from Philadelphia.
Already anticipating trouble, this e-mail (written at 6:45 a.m. EST) did little to assuage my nerves:"i'll be drinking on the plane. are we going to go out after you pick me up? if so, i'm game..."
Well, lets just say as long as it involves a spirited game of Asshole, giant inflatable weiners, and, simply put, the most stylin' ensembles EVER- I'm there.
And I'm, like, totally doomed.
Posted by Bree at 12:33 PM | Comments (1)
January 01, 2006
Uptown 2 Train, 10:30 p.m., New Year's Eve 2005
I'm on the nightrain
And I'm lookin' for some
I'm on the nightrain
So's I can leave this slum.
Looks like sommmmmebody forgot his pep pills. Thank goodness the N*elys were there to point, mock and offer no assistance whatsoever.
Posted by Bree at 04:29 PM | Comments (0)
December 17, 2005
The Name of my Next Band
Straight from the Miami Vice set...
"Stars Jamie Foxx and Colin Farrell have become slightly bloated, with Farrell sporting beer boobs due to their constant partying in Miami. Farrell, in particular, has been carousing at almost every hotel bar and club in town, at times drinking VOX vodka straight from the bottle."
I don't know which I appreciate more: the awesome VOX placement or the phrase "beer boobs."
Oh wait...now I know. Beer boobs wins.
Beer boobs always wins.
Cock your ear and lend a head to the sad lonesome lament of Crotchett and Tubby.
It's so distressing: every celebrity I ever have a crush on turns into such a loser. Watch your back,
Heath Ledger.
Posted by Bree at 11:06 AM | Comments (0)