'The Message'
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
I had a friend get a screwdriver recipe named after him. Basically, you fill a glass with the vodka of your choice, open the refrigerator, show the orange juice to the glass of vodka, say "that was almost in you," and drink.
Sounds similar to the (probably urban legend) Winston Churchill method for mixing a martini. (Fill a martini glass with gin while looking vaguely in the direction of the vermouth.)
Sad about Jack Palance, but he's had a pretty good run. Wasn't he half a billion years old already?
Half a billion SEEMS old -- until you are 499,999,999 and then...
(Fill a martini glass with gin while looking vaguely in the direction of the vermouth.)
I've seen at least one recipe that instructs you to wave the vermouth bottle over the glass of gin.
Some of my Wire-watching bunkies already passed on Madam Speaker's connection to the City that Bleeds, Hecubus. Still an awesome story, though, and almost makes up for that punk-assed bitch Mehlman being from there, too. Excuse me: Cheesefaced, punk-assed, bitch. And my mother has really got to quit saying "stupid sports guy,"(about Hayworth, who really was one, though) even if my future husband is inordinately vain about being a Cornell grad. "civics classes at Arizona State" does not push the same button, though, I have to say. Even though I am a Dem and we do covet mad populism points, sometimes I wish I'd gone to one worth bragging upon. Stupid, huh?
Sorry to hear about the job woes, Joe and Aimée.
Aw, damn, Jack Palance died.
I think I expected him to be the one that cold-cocks the grim reaper and goes right on living.
I never thought I would say this, but I miss the post office in NY. To find one that collects after 5:00 here, I would have to drive about an hour. Who told me this? Someone in my local post office (at 5:05), who wouldn't take my stamped envelope, even though everyone was still there in front of me postmarking things. Aaargh. Now I missed my deadline.
Little did I know how much I would actually need a drink upon my return.
Kill me now. My co-worker is playing Men at Work ("I come from a land down under!"). I mean, sure I loved it at 10, but now? NSM.
I have to leave the house to drive three blocks to the grocery store.
Getting dressed to do so made me tired enough that I lay down for a few minutes.
This should be interesting.
I still like that song, GC.
I recently heard that played live by one of the band members, and I fell in love all over again. The hidden Men At Work fan came out, and came out hard.