Look! I remember my password, too!

Hello there, my lovelies!

It has been AGES since I have posted, but there is a good reason – I was pregnant.  And since I am feeding the kid boob juice, it’s not like I can get hammered all the time.  I have had a drink or two tonight, though, so thought I’d check in.

We just got back from a trip to the West Coast, where I did consume my beloved Maple Cream Ale.  We also had other Granville brews (not bad) some stuff from Piper’s and from Bowen Island (ok), and wines from the US West Coast.  We discovered delicious Zinfandel (not white zin) and we saw both Jager Bombshell and Dentaldamn.  Good times!  Plus, we hung out in Vancouver and Seattle and San Francisco and LA.  Woot!

But tonight, I am having the old standby.  It’s aged rum, too.  My grandfather passed away in August (if 2006 was the year of suck, 2009 is the year of death – I have already lost 2 close family members and one close friend, and my Grandma is not doing well) and we inherited his booze collection.  He used to have a bar in the basement that was a full-on reconstruction of an English pub (my Grandpa Jack – my stepgrandpa – was an English expat) and he had a full booze collection.  Never a rye or rum drinker, though, so the bottles he was given over the years accumulated. As such, we ended up with bottles of RYE that were years older than us.  And some aged rum, too.  This drink’s for you, Grandpa.  I love and miss you (and you too, Aunt Flo and Gregger).

 

Irish Cream, You-rish Cream, We All…Fuggit

Halloweenie

So I’m prepping my Halloween costume accessories for Shatton’s Halloween party on Friday. Trying to make masking tape look like steel is a pain in the arse.

But I did it.

So in celebration, I’m having a wholesome glass or three of milk, with a healthy pour of Irish Cream. It’s a sleep aid, so they tell me.

Who they are, I haven’t the foggiest. But they are smart. BELEIVE IT!

It’s been a while since any of us have posted here. But here I am.

And with that, I’ll bid you adieu.

 

Purple

Is there a secret to the drinking of the red wine to excess and not getting the purple teeth?  Because I can’t seem to pull that off.  The alternatives are either: that no one drinks red wine to excess anywhere outside their home, that those who do drink red wine to excess always have toothpaste and a toothbrush on hand, or that I have especially stain-prone teeth.  I’m not find of either of those options, so I’m gunning for a secret that no one’s telling me.  Wine also makes me drowsy but unable to sleep too, which is all kinds of frigged up.

 Elsewise, THX-1138 is good for about the first thirty minutes, but exponentially less interesting after that.   I don’t like it, and as I represent the Everyman, I’m too assume that no one has really liked it.

 

Fakhing sour puss

Things I am too drunk to do:

• interview anyone
• go to the bathroom unassisted
• be up this late

I’ve got about an hour and a half of interview material that I’ve got to cut down to about six minutes.  Should be interesting.  In other news, it’s really fucking late right now.  It’s about two hours later than I usually stay up, so I’m feeling pretty rock star-ish right now. 

In other other news, we’ve had a whole lot of Sour Puss right.  Tastes like Kool-Aid.  Also seems to be as intoxicating as Kool-Aid, but I could be diluded.  If I barf on Jorge’s keyboard before I post this, then I’m perhaps drunker than I think. 

 

Christmas Spirits

WTF

As I sit here, enjoying my Gingerbread WhyNatte, I wonder what the fugg has been dumped into the drinking water around here.

Around here being the Earth in general.

Certainly the year has been good to me, but for everyone else it seems shite-like.

People being dicks in general, bad stuff happening, etc.

It’s like the year of two thousand and suck but not for me. Just for most of the people around me.

I mean, I’ve been exposed to dickwadish behaviour, certainly. But really, I try not to let it get to me. It is frustrating, to be sure, but my life won’t end because people are being bucking fuffalos.

 

Howdy partners. Haven’t been around these parts in a while. Don’t really have anything to say, but I’m drunk and home at 11 pm on a Friday nite, so thought that I”d post. And, for the record, I’m only drunky drunky ‘cuz the Canucks were losing losing and Liana fed me a half a bottle of wine to help me drown my sorrows. Then i took a fun bus ride home where I discussed Judism wiht a random who was on the bus on his way home from synagogue. Which was good, ‘cuz it helped distract me from the biting cold and the looong wait for the bus.

That is all.

 

Seven Eleven Heaven

How To Have a Great Evening

1. Receive a lot of pressure from people.
2. Fugg up a simple kata four times in front of the whole class 3 days before your grading.
3. Go home feeling like dung.
4. On the way home grab a massive grape Slushee from 7-11.
5. When you get home pour a glass of rum in it.
6. Drink and play shoot-em-up games.

Now that is awesome.

 

most well-deserved drunk in recent memory

This may or may not be true, but I feel like this weekend coming up is the first absolutely free weekend I’ve had in about ninety-seven months.  Here’s the plans, for anyone who plans to call me:

Friday: Get good and properly drunk.  Not blind drunk, not incontinent drunk, just comfortably numb, happy-go-lucky, night-sweaty drunk. 

 Saturday: Do some work (yeah, I know–wtf is that all about).  Then engage in online frivolity, get some sweet, then maybe watch March of the Penguins.   (We’re all about honesty here at Wasted Time.)

Sunday: Observe the sabbath.  Literally.  Just watch those poor sumbitches drive off to church at 8am while I watch them out the window drinking coffee and not wearing pants.

 That spells G-O-O-D–T-I-M-E-S, people.

 

Maybe I shouldnt’ t have decided to have a glass of wine while I prepared dinner, at 10 pm, after going for a 14 km run, then going to the store ‘cuz I didn’t have any pizza sauce and goddamnit i needed pizza and somehow it became 10 pm ‘cuz I had to work today and didn’t get home until like 5:30 pm and 14 km takes a long time to run. And I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.  And I lost 4 lbs on my run, i’m not making that up.  It’s true.  I must be really dehydrated, which means my blood voilume is really low and so my EtOH concentration must be high. But Iswear to you that I’ve only have 1/2 a glass of wine, but I nearly fell over when I just stood up just now.   Fuck, I’m such a cheap drunk.  Whow ould believe that the Jager Bombshell is a cheap drunk. BUt it’s true.  But not so drunk that I didn’t remember to put up my photo this time.  Are you proud of me, Brown Sugar Daddy?

 

no, occifer, there is no problem.

There seems to be this issue with my posting fotos of m’self.  I just can’t do’t, cap’n.  I don’ have th’ pow’r!

 And then the stickykeys got noisy, so’s i shut ‘em orf.

 i’ve lately been readin’ a book [angela's ashes], and now i continousy feel like abbreviating my talk to sound as though i’m from lickerman.  or what’v'r the name o’ thi’ toyn is.

while enjoying the few beers’ that i’ hd in og’dn, i thought oy m’friend jogre.  i felt guil’y when i tho’t o’m'friend jogre.

“daav’s done dan fir’d ever’yone on wast’d time,” he said.

 an i din’s wan’s feel as tho’ i’d don’ mess’d it up fer h’m.  not a’ter blogh’rl.

jogre, this wastedtime is for you.

 (holy shit, is typing in “character’ diffivuly1  i tried tto type as though i were frankie mccourt.  not so much with the kych.  but my brother ius making me a sandwich, so what do i have to complain/0

jogre, daav, jager…. i will rte to let you down no longer.

9 e’n tho frankie says i’m talkin’ backwards.0