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Vodka… lemonade. Amiright??

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You know I am. So, how do we make it happen?

Well, first you have someone email you and say, “Hey blogger, we were wondering if you’d like to review one of our products…”

And you be all, “Thanks, I’m not really into reviewing stuff right now, I’m very busy and important.”

So then they say, “Oh, okay, I’ll just send this FREE BOTTLE OF CHERRY VODKA to someone else then!”

And then YOU go “ZOMG, please excuse my evil twin sister who just said that, because YES and also PLEASE.”

Then a week later this bad boy shows up on your doorstep:

And you’re all, “Heyooooo party in a glass FTW!!”

So, I let my dormant inner bartender takeover. As it’s been 928 degrees here in DC all week (give or take), I couldn’t think of anything more refreshing than some cherry (vodka) lemonade. And because I am a giver, and also because the people who sent me this lovely vodka would like me to, I’m going to share it with you.

Probably The Most Refreshing Drink Ever Recipe

Fill pint glass with ice. Add:

• 2.5 oz of Pucker Cherry Vodka
• 1 squeezed fresh lime
• 1 squeezed lemon wedge
• 2 strawberries cut into fourths or so
• 5 oz lemonade (pink or yellow – I like yellow so the sour contrasts with the sweet)

Shake well, then pour directly into face. (Also be 21. I feel like I should probably throw that in here somewhere.)

I didn’t have any on hand, but I think a couple sprigs of mint in this would be phenomenal too.

Got any other ideas for this delicious stuff? I still have half a bottle… (best one gets to drink it with me)!

P.S. I set up a fancy new profesh site over at rachaelgking.com. Would love your two cents on the design, content, all that jazz, as I’m still tweaking to make it perfect! If you’re interested in social media opines and general digital marketing info, feel free to subscribe too.

Mama said share.

Purchase a half-case or more of French wine and get 1/2 off shipping with promo code "mar77"

WARNING: These are the things I think about when I’m in that weird, not-quite-awake, half-dreaming place…

Imagine for a moment that there were no domestic cats in the world.

No Persians, no tabbies, no orange tiger kitties. No Siamese, no calicos, no tuxedos. They just never existed.

Now, imagine you went to the zoo, and you saw the Big Cats prowling around, all majestic and such:

You would look at these guys, and you would think to yourself:

“My lands, those are some fanciful beasts! What a pity there isn’t a teeny tiny version of them I could keep in mine own house. It would be like a mini horse, except a feline – just a wee tiger I could tussle and play with, but it would fit in my apartment and not be able to kill me!”

(You would SO use those words. Would too!)

Can you imagine how unbelievably cool that would be? To have a perfect, tiny lion/tiger/jaguar/panther just WALKING AROUND YOUR LIVING ROOM on the reg?!?!

You’d be all, oh, NBD, I just happen to have a freaking MINIATURE LEOPARD curled up next to me in bed. Juan likes to be the little spoon.

Mini cats: pretty much the best thing that could ever exist in the universe. AND THEY DO.

Well played, world. Well. Played.

Mama said share.

So, yeah. I was in Chicago for a week, and some stuff totally happened there, and it was tons of fun and I had a blast at Saturday’s Goose Me Happy Hour, and got to see my BFF Kbo a ton, and B and I ate lots of food that was bad for us and probably even more booze, and Chitown is super fun and easy to get around and probably one of my new favorite cities ever. Da Bears.

But more importantly, today, @storm_search showed me an app where I can Jerseylicious myself.

So, yeah… that happened:

And then we had the even better idea of Jerseylicious-ing the CATS.

So, obviously… I did:

I hope the Jersey craze never, ever ends. And now I have a good idea of what our Christmas cards are gonna look like this year…

The most excellent Jerseylicious-ing app is here. Please feel free to share in los commentos*.

*Jersey Spanglish for “the comments”.

Mama said share.

me: this [potential new job] is scary man.
  what if i’m horrible??

Lil Sis: oh pfft
  you are a competent person.

me: I suppose.
  it doesn’t FEEL like it.

Lil Sis: it does when you are around other people and see how bad they are at things and think “I could do that better”

me: hmm. that does happen a lot.

Lil Sis: and this isn’t just that you could probably do most things better than most people, this is what you are ESPECIALLY good at.
  so you will kick ass.
  there will be sound effects when you walk into a bar.

me: and music?
  can i have theme music?

Lil Sis:  sure.
  it may have to be in your head, but that’s okay.

me: *hums Backstreet’s “Larger Than Life” at my desk*

Mama said share.

After a couple years of gift giving, B and I seem to be running out of ideas for presents for each other.

We’ve done the watch, the nice coat, the Wii, the wine fridge, the Mad Men-esque scotch glasses (even if they did turn out to be hobbit-sized).

I searched everything online… even Red Envelope, despite their site being so vomitous it makes me want to punch it where its nutsack should be.

It was six days before his birthday and I knew I had to act fast. I did what any girl does when things get tough:

I called my daddy.

“I just don’t know what to do,” I whined said. “He BUYS everything he wants. The iPad, the Google phone, new speakers… all perfectly good gift ideas he stole from me!”

“Well,” my wise old man said, “you know those toy planes and helicopters? I always wanted one of those. Actually, I always wanted to fly a real plane, but those seem fun too.”

GENIUS, I thought! What man wouldn’t want to machine-operate something through the air?!?

After a bit of research and a lot of Twitter help, I found what claimed to be the perfect starter RC plane: the HobbyZone Firebird Commander (2)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look at the badassery!! Rawwwwwr and such!

I paid way too much for two day shipping and was thrilled when the tracking told me it was indeed waiting for us at home on the day of his birthday.

B was already home when I picked up the enormous 4 foot long box (huzzah! Look at that wingspan, bishes!!!) from our apartment office and proudly lugged it upstairs.

His reaction when he saw me drag the package inside was almost worth it alone.

“What on earth…” He stared at it in disbelief. “WHAT did you get me??”

“Open it, open it, open it!” I chanted. “Fashion show, fashion show, fashion show at lunch!”

With some help from Axe Murderer, he did just that…

And stared at it in what I knew could only be awe and wonderment.

Until, that is, he started laughing.

Hysterically.

And this was not “child’s joy” laughter. This was much more like “wtf has my crazy-ass girlfriend done THIS time” laughter.

B: (in utter disbelief) “A PLANE?! … What am I going to do with a plane??”

Me: “Wha… FLY it, of course!!”

B: “Baby. We live in an apartment building in Washington DC. We don’t have a yard. Where exactly would I fly this?”

Me: “In the park! We have a whole park behind our building!”

B: “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal… hon, you do know these are pretty much impossible to fly? Like, people spend years learning. And pretty much everyone just crashes them immediately anyway.”

Me: (totally crushed) “You HATE it. You hate my present.”

B: (yup, still laughing) “I don’t hate it! I just was really, REALLY not expecting a plane. You win for creativity, my dear.”

Me: *sad face*

Le sigh.

He did come home the next night pretty excited about at least getting to crash it. Enjoy it, my love. You crash the HELL out of that stupid, stupid plane.

Mama said share.

I keep my promises… without further ado, living proof my my bull riding experience at the The NYC 20sb Happy Hour… cape and all.

*shame

*wait no

*quite awesome, actually.

Mama said share.

…A Survival Guide to making it through a sudden and inexplicable loss, be it job, romantical (it’s a word), or your pet hampster Fred.

- Under no circumstances should you try to put on pants and/or leave the house for at least 48 hours.

- There must be at least one cat within unwilling cuddle range at all times. This is especially true if you do not have a significant other; in fact, if you do, you should probably send them away for a few days if you want to keep them. This will not be pretty.

- If you don’t have a cat, rent one. If you’re allergic, deal with it- the reaction will just hurry you along into the “ugly cry” phase.

- There should be absolutely no bathing, shaving, or other hygienic care of any sort.

- Cue up at least 14 really, really bad movies. These will serve as fodder for endless mocking, and to take your anger out on, as well as a few moments that warm your heart against your better judgment, reminding you that you are in fact still human, and keeping you from falling completely into an emotional abyss. Suggestions from my recent foray include:

• When in Rome
• Paul Blart: Mall Cop
• 17 Again
• Lindsay Lohan: The Road to Jail
• Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief – (Actually, I thought this was going to be terrible, and it was surprisingly awesome. You’re welcome.)
• Anything with Channing Tatum (C-TATES!!!) in it

- Drink heavily and eat crap, but make grandiose plans about getting into shape and all the healthy meals you’ll cook from scratch- tomorrow. Always say “tomorrow”, and do not look directly into the bloat.

- Swear colorfully and often. Get creative with it, a la Rocco in Boondock Saints.

And then, remember you have kickass friends, a great man and two adorable furry assholes cats, and at least you’re not the Half Ton Teen.






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Mama said share.

If you will remember from yesterday’s post about how kickass my fave local band Redline Addiction is (are you following them on the Tweet yet? Liked them on Facebook? Bought their albums??? GET ON IT!)- there’s another very important part to this Challenge; the “Personal” aspect.

Personal: What three musical moments have impacted your life most?

Let’s do this.

Moment The First!

When I was still a wee Masshole in the 4th grade, I got my very first CD. I played it over and over and over and OVER until I’m sure my parents wished I’d never heard of that hot new band…

ACE OF BASE!!!!!

Not only did I have the album on repeat for the better part of 1994, my teeny bopper pals and I choreographed an entire dance routine to “The Sign”- a very, very literal one- and performed it at my elementary school’s talent show for all the world to see.

Even as a munchkin, I knew not what “embarrassment” was. And I’m about to prove that I remember every. last. move…

It was cuter when I was 10. Promise.

(The crimped hair, BoSox t-shirt, and super-flared jeans are all throw backs to my years as a 90′s kid in New England. Wicked pissah, right??)

Moment The Second!

When we made it to middle school and decided that Swedish pop bands weren’t cool enough for us anymore, my super edgy friends and I dove into the swing and ska phase that swept the nation. (I guess we weren’t so edgy after all, huh.)

I’ve always loved the old school big bands and brass boys- Glenn Miller, Duke, Dizzy, Benny Goodman, Louie Armstrong. But with the arrival of Reel Big Fish, Less Than Jake, and the Cherry Poppin’ Daddies (whose album my father refused to buy me- ha!)- my love of horns suddenly had a modern place in my life.

When The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, my MOST FAVORITE BAND EVER IN THE WORLD WORLD AT LEAST THIS MONTH ANYWAY I’M A TEENAGER AND I’M FICKLE, YO!!! came to town, I begged and begged and begged my parents to let me go to my very first concert, unsupervised, on New Year’s Eve, with a pack of 14 year olds. They said no approximately 4,389 times… and then relented just in time for a very convenient Christmas present.

We were having an okay time at the Worcester Centrum, but we wanted to get down to the floor where the actual skanking was going on! Only problem was, you needed a very fancy (read: expensive) orange wristband to do it.

So, we did what any kid would do. We bought king-sized Reese’s cups (orange!), and folded the wrappers into “bracelets.”

I don’t think we fooled the guards for one second, but they must have felt sorry for our pimply little faces, because they let us onto the floor, where we proceeded to have the Best. Night. Ever. Of our pathetic adolescent little lives, anyway.

I still have that Reese’s wrapper.

Moment The Third!

Throughout my life, whenever someone has asked me who my favorite artist of all time is, I’ve not once hesitated. It is, without question, Billy My Main Man Joel.

As long as I can remember, his songs have moved me like no one else’s. Scenes from an Italian Restaurant, She’s Always a Woman, The Entertainer, Piano Man, Captain Jack, We Didn’t Start the Fire, The Longest Time, Uptown Girl… (well, okay… ALL OF THEM, basically).

And yes, especially “Only the Good Die Young,” even though I will never forget this moment; my father and I were driving home listening to it (Hi, Dad!), and at the tender and awkward age age of 16, I proudly belted out every last word. He pulled into the driveway, stopped the car, looked at me, and said,

“Do you know what that song is about?”

OHMIGOD OHMIGOD WE ARE SO NOT HAVING THIS TALK RIGHT NOW EFFFFFF MY LIFE!!!!!!

Somehow, that moment passed without me dying. And years later, when I finally- finally- got to see my musical hero live in Madison Square Garden… that is a night I will never, ever forget.

It is, undoubtedly, one of the very biggest checks on my Bucket List.

LOVE YOU BILLY, you musical genius you!!!

Bonus Round!

I promised to RickRoll a bar if y’all got me to 3,500 followers on Twitter, and by George, you did it. So last Friday at our DC Amazeballs Happy Hour, I dragged the crew over to one of my favorite spots in town, Fado, who not only allowed us to partake, they supported me throughout with Tweets and Facebook posts. You guys are the best!

Karaoke has always been one of my favorite extracurricular activities, and the Ginger’s is often my go-to song… so in short? I’d say we rocked it.

Update: So, I just watched the Ace of Base and Rick Astley videos and succession, and I realized that my skills as a choreographer are currently EXACTLY the same as they were when I was 10.

Like the post tag says, it’s a good thing I make a mean martini. (And a mean tweet. There’s no dancing in tweeting, right, MTV?!)

Mama said share.

Til voting, y’all!!!!!! 11 am Eastern Time, what what!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Voting will be at http://facebook.com/zync, starting at 11am Eastern Time!

And don’t forget, you can also help from now til voting ends on the 22nd by the following:

Twitter your hearts out, love muffins…

Follow @LivitLuvit, my favorite in the @MTVTJ search for MTV’s first Twitter Jockey! #zyncmtvtj #lilu4TJ

(Feel free to get creative, this suggestion is just for your copy & paste convenience. Cause I’m good like that.)

Voting TODAY! (ACK!!!) will be via Facebook. You will only get to have to vote once, so make sure we’re Facebook friends!!!

Also, you can just click here to share my plight with your friends on your Facebook wall.

Love you long time. SMOOCHES.

Update: Ask and you shall receive, lovahs. Here’s my very own Kevin McAllister rendition of how I’m feeling today:

Yes, that is an actual Motivational Poster in the background. VOTE AND GET ME OUT OF THIS CUBE FARM!!!!!!!!!

Mama said share.

Money.

Delicious, envy green, key-to-all-things shoes and pedicures and cute Betty Draper-esque dresses money.

We’ve had quite the love/hate relationship for as long as I can remember.

Hate because I’ve never had much of it.

Love because it’s shaped my closet, my friends, and most of all, my life.

I took a job at the local TGI Friday’s when I was 16, because my father thought I should “earn” all the silly clothes I wanted from Express and The Limited (back when The Limited actually made cool clothes, and not just uniforms for middle-aged women trying to repress their sexuality). Basically, my dad was the father from Calvin & Hobbes who was always telling me that dealing with annoying things like “wearing a sweater instead of turning on the heat” and “camping” and “getting a job” would build character.

(Love you, Pops.)

Little did I know that was the beginning of a decade I would spend in restaurants, and that the way I earned that money would determine the kind of people I surrounded myself with for the rest of my life.

Those TGIFs folks are my oldest friends. When I went down South to UNC Chapel Thrill, I actually joined a sorority, mostly for shits and giggles (and a place to live on campus). Those girls didn’t become my friends. I probably couldn’t tell you one of their names.

The people I worked with at the Carolina Brewery, at The Weathervane, and at multiple restaurants around Southpoint mall… those are my college friends who’ll be at my wedding, who I can’t live without seeing every year, whose baby!!! I couldn’t be more excited for.

And finally, here in DC… my friends may be young professionals, but most of them worked in the service industry at some point. They learned the value of a hard day’s work, they fight with me over the bill when we go to lunch, and they always leave a healthy tip for our server.

It is a culture that’s shaped my financial values, my friends, and the way I live my life.

I may have scored a 49 on Charles Schwab Community Services‘s new handy dandy financial fitness check-up tool, but I’m pretty sure that’s mostly because I’m forgetful about bills sometimes, and I’m not great about saving for a rainy day. (I bet Chuck can help with that.)

I'm pretty sure this is a "meh".

Overall, I’m pretty darn content with the impact that money’s had on my life.

Because yes, Dad, I’ll say it… YOU WERE RIGHT.

It did build some goddamn character.

Mama said share.