Famous Face

We were out recently and the bartender looked JUST LIKE Seth Greene. Seth Greene is a wee sprite of an actor, and I knew better than to automatically make the connection, out loud, for the bartender. In fact, the bartender was a bit surly, so I kept the whole thing to myself. At one point I even turned to JohnnyMac and told him. He agreed before saying "Don't tell him he looks like Seth Greene."

Ego. Its a fragile little kitten sometimes.

And I have learned very well by now not to tell someone who I think they look like, but rather to ask them instead if anyone has ever told them they look like someone famous.

For example. I once asked a girl who looked JUST like Reese Witherspoon if anyone had told her she looked like someone famous. She said Reese Witherspoon. See...spot on.

Another time, I asked a guy if anyone ever told him he looked like someone famous and he said Patrick Dempsey when I was thinking more along the lines of JohnnyDrama. So, it pays dividends and close calls from uncomfortable conversations when you ask first.

How do I know this? Experience.

During the onset of graduate school , I had very, very short hair. One day, a guy I had a huge crush on told me I looked just like Jamie Lee Curtis, who was on the cover of People Magazine that week. I swooned. Jamie Lee was a rockin' bad ass. He even bought a copy of the magazine and gave it to me. More swooning. I kept it for awhile

for a long time until I moved in with JohnnyMac. I liked the implication that I looked like Jamie Lee quite a bit.
About a year later, still with shortly cropped coiffure, I was at a party when another guy told me I looked just like someone famous. I smiled. Coyly. I had, after all, heard this before right? As I was smiling, all Smurky La Flirty McSmug style, he said, "Yes. You look just like Carol Burnette."
I am sorry. You must be speaking in tongues because Jamie Lee Curtis does not sound (OR LOOK) like Carol Burnette. Carol Burnette is a wonderful and talented woman. But not quite in the same category in my little mind as Jamie Lee.

Awwww....take that sassy.

And years later, when my locks were long long long, I was out on the town. While sipping my cocktail, a man told me I was a dead ringer for Sandra Bullock. What?
If you are trying to get into my fancy pants, this will never work is a good start.Months later, I had my hair straightened. I was feeling all big in my dance shoes when someone called me Alanis. And not 2009 looks like a supermodel Alanis either. This was very early 2000's when Alanis was angry. And salty. And bohemian. So I cut bangs into my hair. Months later, I went to NYC. And met a charming rogue. Who asked me in his charming roguish way, if I knew who I looked like. "Not a bohemian" was my reply.

He laughed. And said "Sandra Bullock."

What? If you are trying to get into my fancy pants, this will never work is a good start.

Oh, let's be honest. I don't look like Sandra Bullock. Oh no, but if someone wants to make that mistake twice, who am I to argue?

So the coup de grace occurs when I go to a party with a friend. The porch is full of people he knows so we start chatting with some of his old friends. And one of his old girlfriends says to me, "Do you know who you look like?"

I hope the answer is more Sandra Bullock than Screech at this point but its a crap shoot so I say, "No. Who?"

She says, "You look just like the girl from Mystic Pizza."

No. Not Julia.
No. Not Annabeth Gish.
The other one. The name of which I don't even fully know. The one in the hat.
The one who sang the crazy song about Joe in Say Anything. And for some reason, at that particular moment, I did not want to look like the nutty songstress in the Tiny Tim hat.

Ego. Its a fragile little kitten at times.

But, it helped me learn a lesson or perhaps I would have told the bartender he looked just like Seth Greene. And potentially (and unknowingly) spent the rest of the evening drinking dirty dish water in my cocktail.

This must be your first worst date

JohnnyMac and I took the little man to dinner the other night at one of our fave Atlanta locations, Taqueria del Sol. I went to get our table while JohnnyMac waited for our refreshing libations. I take a table outdoors next to a cute couple who appear in their mid 20s. After a moment or two of eavesdropping casual listening to inordinate amounts of giggling and awkward conversation, I quickly determine they are on a first date.

And the worst first date conversation ensues. But I loved it because it is going worldwide now, isn't it? At one point, when JohnnyMac and Mr. MiniMac came to join me, JohnnyMac said, "that must be some highly interesting dialogue going on since you are not listening to a word I am saying."

Me, not listening to a word JohnnyMac is saying? WOW...I feel like a husband.

Just kidding. JohnnyMac listens to everything one of out four
six ten things I say.

Boys and girls who are preparing to go on dates, here are several things you might want to avoid discussing:

Boy: blah blah blah my boss is a betch. Woman don't make good bosses.
Girl: tee hee heee...what?
Boy: Oh, was the offensive what I just said?
Girl: Well, not entirely offensive.

My thoughts: Ummm...straighten up Boy. This is no way to entice this woman or show your modernity. Your boss may be a betch. But the fact she is a poor boss simply because she is female is inaccurate. Go ahead and stick around, Girl. Hope you like having turkey pot pie on the table promptly at five.

Then Girl begins talking about her lunch time "drinking fest" she takes with other girls from the firm she is interning with. They call them "Margarita Lunches". Boy laughs. Girl talks about going to a Happy Hour with many people from her firm. She said someone ordered shots and says, "How stupid is that to order shots at 5 pm?"
Boy asks, "What did you do"

Girl responds, "Well, they were Redheaded Sluts. I mean, who is going to turn that down. I LOVE Redheaded Sluts."

Boy makes a sound like Slingblade and says, "Mmmmmmme too."

Girl: tee heee heeee tee heee, that is one night I did some things I regret.

Boy: (awkward hahaha) Regret like bad pictures taken of you or you woke up with needle marks in your arm? haha....followed by more awkward laughter.

Girl: Worse.

Silence ensues. While he may find this coquettish, he might also go home and google your name into YouPorn.com. Or you may become his favorite girl friend of all time.

Later, JohnnyMac takes MiniMac to potty. I catch this:

Boy : Tell me something interesting about you.
Girl: My college boyfriend had a 13" penis.
Boy: silence
Boy can say nothing immediately. Did Girl HONESTLY think about WHAT SHE JUST SAID?
Boy: huh huh uh uh....did you measure it?
Girl: tee heee heee hee hee. No.

LONG PAUSE

Boy: You measured it, didn't you?
Girl: Yes.

Thankfully I just put down my Pacifico or JohnnyMac AND little man would have worn it via pleasant snorting laughter spray-fest.

Here is just a potential tip: NEVER, and I do mean NEVER discuss your ex-boyfriend's 13 inch Johnson on a date. But that is why it was the first date and not the rehearsal dinner.

Young Adult Wasteland: School is now in session

I came across a snippet in while reading Freakonomics a few months I could not resist sharing with JohnnyMac. JohnnyMac is a University of Georgia alum.

Freakonomics references a college course called "Coaching Principles and Strategies of Basketball" and included a portion of the final exam. Of the twenty total questions on the final, two included were How many halves are in a college basketball game as well as How many points does a three-point shot count for during a game. Various other similarly advanced level brainteasers rounded out the remainder of the exam. The class was offered at U. of Georgia and taught by Jim Harrick, Jr., the son of the basketball coach at the time, Jim Harrick, Sr.

The class was comprised primarly of student athletes. Oh, and everyone got an A.

Perhaps my surprise is ill founded. I went to a school in which the only "blow off" class I could take was "Human Sexuality". This class had a wait list and while I knew it would potentially reflect poorly on my transcripts as they would be submitted to law schools across the nation, I had to take it, didn't I? And it wasn't necessarily easy but oh, the homework.

But I promise you we didn't take exams with options like Identify slang terms for the hoo ha. Our professor actually expected us to learn something. So while this class may not have shouted erudite, it did have components of value.

But the History of Basketball with elementary level questions on exams? Ridiculous. Do other colleges and universities actually offer such? Well school is back in session. AND OH, indeed they do. Thanks to some easy research, a flip through Cal Berkeley's fall class schedule, and some insight from Mental Floss and OnlineColleges.net, I found more than I wanted to know. Its a long list.

According to a study done by Phyllis Schlafly, in 1914 most universities and colleges were in sesson 50 days more per year than now. And at that time, all colleges and universities required writing and composition. How many require it now? 12%. Same with Math.

Colleges and universities are not requiring math and language arts? Are you serious? Is that why a young lady working at a retail store could not count my change back to me when her system went down. She could mentally subtract 11.77 from the $20 I gave her? What is this?
Young Adult Wasteland.Duplications of Jeff Spicoli.

Please advise how the following will prepare anyone for an actual job. These are actual college/university course offerings:

Oprah Winfrey: The Tycoon (U of Illinois at Champagne)

Zombies in Popular Culture (Columbia College: Chicago)

Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll in Ancient Egypt (Johns Hopkins)

Science of Superheros: (UC Irvine)

Joy of Garbage (Santa Clara U)

The Simpsons and Philosophy (Cal Berkeley)

Getting Dressed (Princeton) By the way, you are at PRINCETON for *@&^@! sake. Do you need a class on how to get dressed?

Arguing with Judge Judy (Cal Berkeley)

Elvish: The language from Lord of the Rings (U of Wisconsin-Madison)

Philosophy of The Matrix movie (Ohio State)

Life and Times of Lil' Kim (Syracuse U). * STOP IT SYRACUSE UNIVERSITY.

Cyberporn and Society (State University of New York at Buffalo)

Daytime Soaps: Family and Social Roles (U of Wisconsin)

Philosophy of The Watchmen comics (U of Alabama)

Naked or Nude (U of Chicago) *Replenishing the porn/stripper industry are we, U of Chicago?

Hypertext, Internet Writing (Vanderbilt)

Mail Order Brides, Understanding the Phillipines (Johns Hopkins)

The Phallus (Occidental College)

Sex, Drugs, Salt, Coal (Cornell)

Learning from YouTube (Pitzer College)

Joe Paterno, A Study (Penn State) * oh, you MUST be joking. A study about the Football Coach? Who is still there? Hope everyone likes him.

Porn, Blasephmy, Proganda (U of Melbourne)

Politics in Bruce Springsteen's Lyrics (State University of New York Potsdam)

The Unbearable Whiteness of Barbie (Occidental College: LA)

Vampires, Blood and Empire (U of Pittsburgh)

Changing Times, Music and Lyrics of Bob Dylan (Willamette)

Underwater Basket Weaving (NOT KIDDING): UC San Diego

Science of Harry Potter (Frostburg State)

Beer Appreciation (North Dakota State)

Alien Sex (U of Rochester) *For the love of all things holy, University of Rochester. What is wrong with you?

Monsters (Western Washington U)

Madness, Sexuality and Subversion in Victorian Literature (U of Edinburgh. Which also teaches a course on Fairies. )

Philosophy of South Park (U of Delaware)

Art of Walking (Centre College)

Myth and Science Fiction: The Matrix, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings (Centre College)

The Future is LOST: A seminar on TV show as cultural phenomen (Tufts)

The Far Side Entomology: A study of the cartoon series (Oregon State)

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, A Study (U of Maine in Farmington)

History of the Dirty Picture (Rhode Island College of Design)

Philosophy and Star Trek (Georgetown)


Wow...and to think all I got was lousy Sex Education.

Take A Bite Of: Linguine and Proscuitto Mini Frittatas

Something warm, delicious, filling, and super easy to make? Look no further. I love these for family breakfast as much as I love them for brunches when we have people over. My favorite Chef, Giada, shared this on one of her shows. Buon Apetito!

Linguine and Proscuitto Mini Frittatas
Ingredients

• 1/2 pound linguine pasta
• 7 large eggs
• 1/2 cup milk ( I use 2%)
• 1/4 cup cream
• 1/2 cup mascarpone cheese
• 6 ounces diced prosciutto
• 5 ounces smoked mozzarella cheese, diced (1 cup diced)
• 1/2 cup grated Asiago cheese
• 1/4 cup finely chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 3/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
• And you need a 12 cup muffin tin

Directions:

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally, about 8 to 10 minutes. Drain the pasta in a colander. While the pasta is still in the colander, use kitchen sheers to cut the linguine into smaller pieces. The pasta should measure about 3 cups.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Grease the muffin tin.

In a blender combine the eggs, milk, cream, and mascarpone cheese. Blend until well combined. Transfer the mixture to a large bowl. Add the cut pasta, prosciutto, mozzarella cheese, Asiago cheese, parsley, garlic, salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Stir until the ingredients are combined.

Using a 1/3 cup measure, fill each of the muffin tins until both the pasta and liquid are at the top.

Bake until firm and cooked through, about 30 to 35 minutes. Let cool for 3 minutes before removing from the tin. Arrange on a serving platter and serve.

Soul Meets Body

I was quite moved by my birthday gift from my little son in July, and I found your comments about him being a potential rock star to be, in a word, awesome. As did my Mom, who then relayed them to almost every individual she came in contact with that day. There is no pride like Grandparent Pride.

And I wanted to share this little treat as well.

Some of you may already know the indie rock band Death Cab for Cutie. Originally from a city north of Seattle, I am a big fan of their song list. One of my favorites is a song titled Soul Meets Body. If you haven't heard it, here is your chance.





And because I am already a fan of DC4C, and of course, a huge fan of the budding rock star in my own house, the following performance is one of my favorite of all time. Talk about a Rock and Roll heart.







Have a great Friday.

There was a young woman who lived for a shoe....

Ahhhh...who doesn't love a great pair of shoes?

Now, some of you see a pair of shoes like this and say to yourself,
Oh, those are FMPs.
Not familiar with this acronym?

Well, for the sake of public decency, let's say "Fornicate Me Pumps" and just replace Fornicate with your favorite sailor word. I think you know what I mean. The F Bomb. Yes, some people have a special code names for shoes like these. Oh, I am sure you never use that word. And I, of course, say it often use it so sparingly I have trouble pronouncing it at times.

But the sister to the FMP is the DFMP. As in Don't F with me pump. You have seen them, I know you know what I mean. Heels you put on to feel invincible. The ultimate power shoes. And I can't be the only one with a pair or two.

I have several pairs of shoes that immediately empower me. Oh, that's a lot of stock to put in a shoe. I know. But they do. It's like putting on Superman's Cape. And I love it. One pair are 4 inch heels I bought in Italy. I love them because they make me 5'11 and because I love where they came from. Oh, just ask me.If you say, "Wow...I love those shoes." Then I will be sure to say "THANK YOU, I bought them in Italy. " It's never lost on me that you have not necessarily asked me where they are from.

And another pair, the first time I wore them, JohnnyMac said, with a very sultry look "Those shoes are hot." My reaction? Very close to Meg Ryan in Top Gun: Take me to bed or lose me forever.

And my favorite pair of all time. A black patent open toe slide with 3.5 inch Pucci covered stacked heel...mmmmm....yum.

Oh pretty shoe, why did I wear you to that filthy dirty bar in Spain? WHY WHY WHY. Why did I drink all night and dance you to your near-death? WHY WHY WHY? Those shoes suffered some scars. Nothing looks good with martini splashed all over it. Not you, not your liver, and certainly not your Pucci heels. Peter Dundas would have likely maced me had he known of my transgression.

And there is no need to have fabulous shoes that make your feet hurt. Boo. Lest you are so uncomfortable you must remove them before your evening ends. And what is the point of that? I am all for barefoot and fancy free. At the beach? Barefoot reigns. Your friend's wedding? Not exactly.

A friend wore bad shoes in NYC and ended up barefoot on the street at 2 am. Catch that? Barefoot. On the streets of NYC. You may save yourself a blister but enjoy walking around in who knows what AND contracting plantar warts. Even the bar of soap shuddered and thought "I don't want to go near that mess". Ergo, keep your footwear on in sketchy places. Streets of NYC at 2 am are the epitome of sketchy.

And with great websites like Endless and Zappos, and of course the fabulous shoe departments in Saks and Nordstrom, the possibilities are unlimited. And let's not forget DSW. I hope every woman has a DSW nearby.

If you know another great resource by which I can get a fix, by all means, share.

So here's to putting something fabulous on your feet.

If clothes make the man, shoes make the girl. Don't believe me? Ask Cinderella.

We have a winner. JA of the Day : volume iv

We had a wee bit of an issue last night. I hit publish instead of save on this post. Sorry for the fake out. But here is the real deal.

One of the first followers of my blog emailed me and requested that I renew JA of the Day. By all means. JA is my shorthand for Jackass.

So many contenders that it was hard to narrow down a winner. Should I give it to myself for myill-timed profanity last week? No. That would only add insult to injury.

Should it go to Bird Brain? No. Too easy.

Should I pick the bank teller who refused to cash a check for a man without his thumbprint even though he had NO ARMS? Ummm, no, because Bank of America and their PR people have spent weeks attempting to minimize the bad press on this already. And I am certain the personnel involved have been called worse than jackass during that time.

Should I select the snarky commenter who hid behind anonymity to vehemently attack a fellow blogger's post on her religion? Opinions are like ass pieholes, and everybody's got one. However, his issue was tied to her choice not to drink alcohol because of her religion. This merits a diatribe? An anonymous diatribe at that? Suggestion: If you don't like someone's blog, why not: stop reading it. The opposite of love is not hate. It is indifference. This commenter was a contender for JA of the Day, but after a minute more of consideration I determined he is less jackass than he is a blogstard which is my new name for a blogger acting like a b*stard. Thankfully, they are few and far between.

Should it be the man who smacked a crying child in the Georgia Walmart? A man who smacked a child that was NOT his own? This man clearly is a jackass and so much more but this story has already received its fair share of narrative. But should I ever find myself in such a situation, my feelings can best be expressed through a photograph.


For something fresh and new, how about this. In Columbus, Ohio, a 20 year old robbery suspect wants not just "criminal" but "Romeo" on his dossier.

Allegedly, Stephfon Bennett and two other men robbed a couple last Sunday. The victim was able to positively ID him when he came back to her house two hours later to ask her out on a DATE.

Hmmm. The idea of robbing someone first and then pursuing them romantically. You know who this works for? JAMES BOND. Or on the opposite end, maybe girls who like Eminem videos. Who does this not work for? You, Stephfon Bennett.

The Police arrived at the home promptly to arrest him. Could not have had an easier time finding him. Simply drove to address of the victim. He was arraigned Tuesday on a charge of aggravated robbery and is being held in the Franklin County jail on $100,000 bail.

$100,000....pretty expensive misstep I would say. And while he is likely the mockery of his entire little criminal network, this kid does have a set of nuggets on him.

Heads up: Criminal activity might be a turn on for girls like Adele Corners and Mallory Knox, but that is the exception not the rule.

A public defender had not yet been assigned to the case, officials said. Why? Because the Office of the Public Defender has not yet determined who gets to represent Stephfon Bennett. I believe they are currently playing rock/paper/scissor to see who gets stuck the opportunity.

And this is our JA of the Day.


JA of the Day Archives:

volume i
volume ii
volume iii

Which wine goes with Jury Duty?

I got the Summons weeks ago. I didn't spend much time fussing over it because it had the X for Alternate and I have never EVER been actually called to report. Oh, Cockydoodle...hold up. This time I was not so lucky. Civic duty? Yes. Pain in arse? Yes.

Jury Duty...or "How I spent all day yesterday" or even better, and what it will now and forever be known as: Jury DOODIE.

Yesterday am, we have a mother of all storms. Thunder barreling beginning around 3 am which is when I awoke. No sleep makes for a pretty face. PERFECT for Jury Doodie.

Ooops...we have no power. Hmmm. The garage door I can manually open. Gates to our entire neighborhood? Took some more work. Luckily, someone else who had to be somewhere or face the threat of warrant had pried one open. Our neighborhood busybodies watchdogs will LOVE that. The power is out in a majority of the city. Awwww, that makes me feel safe. In a place where people are heinous and rabid drivers when the traffic signals fully function.

And I am a salty Mamalita because I have MANY things to do on Monday none of which included Jury Duty.

You can't park downtown so you drive to Turner Field and get on a bus that looks like it just drove straight from Shawshank Redemption. Oh, and get ready to pack it in. Apparently the bus only wants to make one trip despite hundreds of people standing in the parking lot. Oh yes, I did want to rub up on your business this am. Oh, I detect you had garlic in your breakfast burrito. I never knew what a pig farm smelled like. They must use this same bus to haul animals when not busy going to and fro the Federal Building.

Luckily, I was one of the last on. Which provides the benefit of being one of the first OFF. And I absolutely will jaywalk in the hellacious rain coming down despite police officers everywhere because I can't loiter outside hoping Noah comes to give me a lift.

First one in the door makes me one of the first to security. Why the strip search level of disrobing? Who is coming in here for jury duty packing a gat? I clear, finally, after my laptop gets the 10 minute look over, off I go upstairs. Why is it important to be amongst the first in? I didn't know until I got in the large holding cell juror assembly / waiting room. There are two outlets. Only TWO. Two outlets for hundreds of people. Thankfully, I know to bring my laptop/book/mags/water/snacks/patience biscuit because its going to be a long morning/afternoon/evening.

But then I decided to shake that sour face because guess what I can do? I can blog! For HOURS. And read the dozen newspapers I like. At least an hour or two of uninterrupted blogging? And reading? Are you serious? Ok...maybe I can be a bit more grateful for civic responsibilities.

Most people here are completely normal. Every day people who all would love to be given the opportunity to serve civic duty in other means. However, if you are even slightly surly, you better check your comments and your sassy ass at the door because the dames who runs this joint are not playing with you. I did see one kid with his pants down below his boxers. Straighten up clown. Oh, and have fun getting taken to task by a judge for your pants hanging off your arse.

There are forms, and forms, and forms. They called names all morning but here I found myself still sitting. And maybe my tummy gave a little growl because with no power, I could not make my protein shake for breakfast. SmartyMac brought an apple. Shazam! Vending machines make me ill. Not that I have anything against the 8 month old Honey Bun.. but...well, I guess I do.

But then they announced that the remaining red badges would be dismissed. I got quite pleased since this room went from hundreds to about 25 and there wasn't enough of us left to matter, right? Another announcement coming...I packed my gear.

Black and white badges may take a short lunch break and return promptly at one. I KNEW I wanted a red badge when I got here. UGH.

Jury selection (voir dire) is not painful but most attorneys do not want other attorneys on the jury. But should I need to wait for 7 hours to find out something we could have agreed upon at 8:01 am? Apparently.

I finally take a restroom break and shudder upon entering a bathroom in which I have never seen so much water. All over the counters and the floors. Did you wash a jackal in here? What the @&*!^(*&^!. Why is every single surface wet? And not in a pine-sol fresh kind of way either?

After many more hours pass (like3) do I receive word that I am no longer needed and am free to go. Excellent.

Free to walk back to my car 2 miles away? In the torrential rain? Oh no. Prison bus is on its way to fetch me. All that to uphold civic responsibility. And of course...the $25 dollars I earned for 7 hours of civic work will by me a bottle of wine. Which leads me back to my original question, which wine goes best with Jury Duty? I mean, besides ALL of it.

Wax off, wax on Mamasan

If you don't feel like getting some nitty gritty on girly stuff, this might be a good time to partially cover your eyes.

Recently, I went to the spa for a little personal grooming. While there, I noticed a woman and her teen daughter in the waiting room. The girl looked all of thirteen. This is a very specialized spa in that they do nothing but waxing. I asked my licensed torturer esthetician if they did mother - daughter days. I was joking. She laughed and said no but that both of the women in the waiting room were also her clients. Bless that heart of yours if you, as a teen, willingly go and get waxed. And we are not talking eyebrows either.

Did we, as teen girls, even know about waxing? I most certainly did not. In fact, waxing didn't become a "to do" until much much later in my life. Ay carumba.

Now, on a previous long ago visit to this service provider, I once dared to go all out. Oh, you know what I mean. Viva Brazil. After I winced in pain and issued horrible bouts of profanity, she assured me it would last for weeks. Ummmm. Not quite.

So I decided, this particular grooming technique wouldn't be a long term plan. And perhaps this type of treatment was a bit S&M for me. Oh, I know some of you say you get used to the pain. Mmm hmm. I could get used to living in hell to but why would I ?

So bikini line, fine with me, and I will manage my own situation. Trust me, I am not going all 70's style. I have ways and means to take care of business.

However, when I was pregnant, and due date was approaching, I realized that I might need to do a little extra maintenance before game day.

Hey, try this, shove a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade float under your shirt. Now, grab your favorite trimming device, and attempt to bend over to do your work without cutting a main vein. GOOD LUCK. My ob-gyn asked what happened to the inside of my leg and I told her Freddy Krueger gave me a massage.

Going forward, I made sure I became much more skilled with such tools.

But then, fast forward to the romantic weekend romp we planned six months after our son was born. Just a little break from baby. You know how much sex you are having with a six month old at home? Not enough.

So I decided, hey racy lady, let's revisit Brazil and turn it up a notch for the Hub. So back to the spa I go. And I handled it 1% better this time in that I didn't have a puffy cry baby face when I left. Until the next day. When I had an slight allergic reaction to the wax.

areyou*&#%%@ kiddingme?

Allergic reaction. Hmmmmm. I couldn't just have an easy one, like, allergic to lycopene and your tongue swells a little. Or maybe a hive or two. No. That's not what I got.

Allergic reaction. How does an allergic allergic reaction to wax used for a Brazilian feel? Go submerge your eye in a river of hot lava and you'll be close.

Do you know who knows nothing about it? JohnnyMac. The good stuff was off limits for the entire weekend. Romantic weekends are SO romantic when you are suggesting cold showers. Or sleep. Or more cold showers.

I discretely called my service provider and asked her what to do. She told me to sprinkle a little white powder on my situation. White powder? Ummmm, there wasn't enough little white powder in ALL of Babies R Us OR in all of Bogota to cure what was ailing me.

Brazilian Wax sent me a message: I am too sexy for you. You are not strong enough for me.
I soon recovered and returned to a state of Zen for my girly bits and shall NEVER revisit that mistake again.

Oh hot damn..this (blog) is my jam

I love blogging. It has become such an awesome part of my life. This is what happens when you mix one part humor, one part sass, one part memories, one part friendship, and one part hobby quasi part time job. And, oh, I have really enjoyed watching this little baby grow.

It would never be what it is today without you. Never. Thank you for your awesome support and interest.

And here is your invitation to the Sunday Night Awards Show. First, let me get something glorious to wear:
I borrowed this from Simone. Her closet is full of gorgeous frocks.
Oh, and I needed shoes so I bought these:

Now. Get your refreshments, guys and dolls, and let's give credit where credit is due:

Leigh at Leigh vs. Laundry is a doll. She opted to give me my first turn at receiving the I Give Good Blog award. I have a particular affinity for that one, and as she stated, there is no rule someone can't give it to me. Excellent point.

And Matthew in his new digs at AbodeOneThree and JenJen at Jen's Voices, gave my award to me too. Thank you! I will say I was truly touched by what both of you wrote.

Thank you Viv at V Spot for another Superior Scribbler Award! Love it. And thank you for your great comments about my blog as well.

And awesome Lauren at Sanity Sold Separately gave me this bejeweled sparkler:

Angie at Just Shy of a Y sent me an awesome Pay It Forward. In the mail, I received a fab box full of goodies. LOVE THEM. Two of my favorite products were in that box. Thanks Angie!

And Theta Mom for another beautiful SPLASH award. She awarded this to blogs which allure, amuse, bewitch, impress or inspire you. WOW! Thanks Theta Mom. I am flattered.

Thank you DustJacketAttic for this simply gorgeous award!
And beautiful girl Ju from Double Trouble gave me the Zombie Chicken Award. The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. This is so fantastic Ju! Thank you!
Thank you for the great Circle of Friends Award from Brownies for My Breakfast.And to the wonderful Tamara Hart Heiner at Chasing Dreams, thank you for the Lemonade Award! The Lemonade Award is a feel good award that demonstrates gratitude or a great attitude. Awww...I love that!

Whew....sip break....shall we continue? Indeed. ShopGirl at Iheartmyshoes wrote a post about my blog. SO cool and thanks for the spotlight!

And Jules at Mean Girl Garage tagged me in a Summer Favorites meme. Thanks Jules! I am going to include some of my summer favorites in conjunction with:

Nancy's awesome gift to me...F8hasit gave me another Honest Scrap Award. With this comes ten more things about me you just couldn't wait to know.

Let me once again combine details and here are 10 very relevant things about me...

1. The very first time I sang on stage was at Sloppy Joe's in Key West. I sang Margaritaville. And the lead singer gave me $1.00 so I could rightfully say I had my first paid gig. Apparently off key meant off Key West to me. Off key meant a little something to everyone who had to listen to me that day. Margaritaville in soprano = bad news.

2. My favorite summer cocktail: The Honey Pear Martini

3. My favorite summer song: Mutiple. But Move If You Wanna is one fave. I love a song that makes me want to shake my can-can.

4. I am still blown away sometimes that JohnnyMac and I made a little person. Regardless of how technologically advanced our society becomes, we still bring people into the world the same way they did since the beginning of time. And seeing a little person, a little person you created, can be awe-inspiring and humbling at the same time.

5. I got caught cheating once in college. U-g-l-y. And I had no alibi.

6. I have one tattoo. It is tiny and on the inside of my ankle. Back in the day I wanted the tat on the lower back. Long before it was called "tramp stamp" or "b*tch badge" but I never got it and am not a bit remorseful about that either.

7. I learned the entire Abbey Road album word for word by the time I was seven thanks to my Father. I still remember listening to it with him as a kid. It is amazing now to listen to the Beatles with our two year old and listen to him request songs like Here comes the sun. However, we only let him listen to the "before heavily enjoying hallucinogenics" phase of the Beatles' career.

8. I love to make my own stationary. I love photography and make cards from the pics I take. I could spend a lot of time in Hobby Lobby and Michael's. I made all of my wedding Save the Dates and Programs. I absolutely loved them.

9. Some poetry I wrote got published in college. Pretty exciting for me at that time. I should have kept in great touch with that Publisher because my lonely manuscript lives an unrequited life in the garage.

10. A woman I have tremendous respect for sent me this note on my birthday. It made my day, made me cry, and made me humble all at the same time.

You are a wonderful, generous, inspiring woman and I am so happy to know you. Meeting you was definitely one of my best work experiences, and I will always be grateful for that. You are such a magnificent mom, wife, and human being, and one of the few women I consider a true role model. And super model! =) I am sending you big wishes for your best year yet!

I certainly thanked her for her words, but it is a constant reminder that you can impact people's lives positively, or negatively. It is a choice.

On with more recognition:

So Nancy, Jules, Viv, Matthew, JenJen, Leigh: Thank you for your support. You all have received the I give good blog award already. So, I am giving all of you the Super Comments Award. I won this award before and can whole-heartedly bestow it upon all of you.

PeachTart, One Sassy Girl, and LaLaLa Leah: I am also giving all of you this Super Comments Award as well. And for all these dames: Peach, Sassy, Leah, Nancy, Jules, Viv, JenJen, Leigh (Sorry Matthew) I am also sharing DustJacket's I think your an awesome girl award. You go home tonight double-fisting.

DustJacket, Tamara, Theta Mom, Lauren, Ju, Brownies, Angie, ShopGirl: I am giving all of you the Super Comments Award.

AND the I give good blog award. You go home tonight with two in hand as well.

The rules for the I give good blog award: No one really likes rules, do they? I shall make mine simple. Make a cocktail, pick out some of your favorite bloggers. Send this award to 4 of them. Tell them why you think they give good blog. There are SO many fascinating, witty, and fantastic bloggers; let's invite them all to the party.

Or you can just put it on your mantle and watch it sparkle.

And if you think it sassy that I created my own Award, just consider it a grown up and virtual version of a friendship bracelet.

And I am also giving the I give good blog award to some other great bloggers. And again, this is a short list and by no means covers all of the awesome bloggers I have "met".

Get your finery on, and join the party:

Scrappy Girl

Intense Guy

Lee the Hot Flash Queen

Living on the Spit

Lopez

Carma Sez

Jen at Buried with Children

Live.Love.Eat

Smell the Coffee Lisa

Dumbwit Tellher

Char at Ramblins

Jules at Night Notes on Napkins

Youngbloods4Ever

Alexis AKA Mom at Running Away? I'll help you pack

Sitting on the Mood Swing at the Playground

Kim at One Foot in Front of the Other

Mandy at Life After 30

M-Cat

Shorty at Securityville

McVal at SewNotMyDay

Leah Rubin at Funny is the New Young

and Little Ms Baker at Pink Sugar Desserts for that awesome recipe yesterday.


WOW.....I think the orchestra is about to play. Have a great Sunday. Thanks for joining me for the Awards Show.

Cheers! JennyMac

Take A Bite Of: Cookie Dough Brownies

In my tip-toeing through the BlogTulips last week, I came upon a dessert that I just craved immediately. AND will be making for a party tomorrow.

From the fabulous Rhiannon (aka Little Ms Baker) at Pink Sugar Desserts is this combination of two of my favorite treats: Brownies and Chocolate Chip Cookies. And it might be one of the easiest you will ever make because there are two ingredients. Now, normally, I am a girl who likes it "from scratch" but I will cheat on this...because cheating never felt so good.

This photo and recipe belong to Pink Sugar so go and visit her site, for more visual baked goodness.
Two ingredients: Cookie Dough and Brownie Mix. Thank you Betty Crocker and Pillsbury for making my life so tasty. To make this deliciousness, all you have to do is prepare the brownie batter according to the box and then pour into a 9 x 9 greased pan.

Scoop spoonfuls of cookie dough and press into the brownie batter until there seems to be a even ratio of cookie dough to brownie batter. Bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees F for 35-40 minutes or until the tops of the cookie dough is nice and brown. Remove from oven and then let cool.

For the chocolate ganache topping:

Melt 1 1/2 cups of chocolate chips
3/4 cups of whipping cream
5 tbsp of butter in a saucepan over low heat until the chocolate chips are smooth and melted.

Pour over the brownies and then put in the freezer (if you're not patient enough like me to wait for the fridge to cool these babies off) until set, about 45-60 minutes. Cut into pieces and pig out, I mean, enjoy.

Buon Apetito!!!

A glass by any other name

If you are a wine connoisseur, either burgeoning or seasoned, you have no doubt heard of Riedel. For anyone else wanting to learn a little something today, Riedel is considered by many not just as a wine glass company but the wine glass company. Riedel is one of the oldest companies in the world having opened its doors in Bohemia (now the Czech Republic) over 250 years ago.

Riedel has been rated by some of the master wine critics in the world because they shape the glass based on the wine you are drinking. In case you are still serving white and red in the same glass, here is a guide to show you their breadth. So, being developing oenophiles, I decided to buy the Vinum Extremes for JohnnyMac as a gift one holiday. Only to discover, he had bought the same for me and now we had eight gorgeous wine glasses. Well, we had 36 wine glasses to match the 8 wine globes for red, the 8 oversized white wine glasses, and the 12 champagne flutes I had to have but we like to have parties so I kept them all. (JohnnyMac immediately grimaced at my stance). And we loved using the Riedels. Did they make the flavor that much better? I hope so.

And then I abused the Riedels. As I washed it with the utmost tender loving care, I apparently did not use angel wings to dry the water and I cracked one. I haven't broken a wine glass. Ever. I have been highly overserved in stilettos on a wet patio with wine glass in hand and still have never broken a wine glass. So one Riedel down.

That's ok, I told myself. I have seven more. And then I broke another. Damn! And then another.

I put myself on probation. No Riedels for me and I didn't want to wash them OR look at them. And after a month I went back. And look what Ive done! I broke another &$%@*!&^ wine glass. And another. Regardless of my gingerly caresses, over the course of six months, I had now broken seven of the eight glasses. And let me assure you, I am not a clumsy girl. And why would this even merit comment? Because we bought the Vinum Extreme glasses for $25.00. Each. So I now have a wine glass debit of $175.00. Isn't that precious?

But rather than go on permanent probation, I have discovered I can buy a CASE of Vinum Extremes on eBay for about 100.00 now. Oh, eBay, I do love you.

And while I am waiting for another shipment, I have my lovely wine globes from Pottery Barn which are just fantastic (and at 24 ounces, you really can say you only had one glass.)

And then I read an article about some interesting methods used to serve wine in restaurants from California to NYC.

At Lou's Red Oak BBQ in Huntington Beach, they serve wine in a mason jar. How fitting. But I'm not buying. I really can not drink wine out of a glass with no stem. Seriously. I won't.

At Global Cafe in Colorado, Sofia Coppola has sparkling wine that comes in a can. Oh Lord. I think the makers of the renowned Screaming Eagle just shuddered.

At 1914, a speakeasy in Chicago, they serve it in teacups and small bowls.

And at La Cave des Fondus, they serve red wine in baby bottles. Oh yes, you read that right. Apparently an idea from a restaurant in Paris that has been doing it since 1966 (to avoid taxes). Now, I support creativity, but let's be clear, this is just ill. If I saw a grown person drinking wine from a baby bottle, my tummy would churn. Stop it La Cave des Fondus. While the Parisians may have some sound albeit odd reasoning for such a thing, you do not.

Maybe I should send them all case of Riedels.

Poker Face: This is what I need

Do you know what a poker face is? Some one wanted a reiteration. Here you are:

A Poker Face is a face lacking any interpretable expression. I had to clarify because I am clearly unaware from innate knowledge.

If you too are puzzled, a great example is the police officer that pulled you over for exceeding safe and posted speed. The one who knows you were speeding and knows YOU know you were speeding. He is the one who inquires if you were aware of your speed to which you reply by saying, Hmmmmm, and make that puzzled look on your face like you were just asked whether Andalusia is or is not part of the Kingdom of Spain. Or you say you were in such a huge hurry only by necessity to bring home medicinal supplies to the orphaned bear cub you saved from the burning woods behind your house. That face he wears as you babble your story? A poker face.

I come from a family of reactive people. The gene code for "poker face" was diluted from our lineage long ago. Not a soul in our family can pull it off, I promise you. Others have this capability, and perhaps are better for it but I think poker face can be a debit and a credit. Let me explain.

Not everyone wears their emotion on their sleeve. Ingenious for people who face danger or uncomfortable news on a daily basis. Would you want your doctor to look at your x-rays and scrunch up her face? Or Anderson Cooper to read the news with a scowl, or worse, a tear in his eye? No. And while the police, media, and various medical personnel are often trained to show minimal to no reaction, this is not a personal development course I have had the privilege of attending.

Poker Face Training (PFT) could have benefited me OH so many times. Let me name a few.

PFT needed: when a former leader of a visiting corporation asked during a negotiation meeting what was the difference between "state" and "federal".

Or when my best friend showed me the sweater she received from her mother-in-law which had a fake vest front sewn on the sides, was enormously too big, and had Cat O' Nine Tails on the front including some faux "cat o' nine tails" material actually glued on the front to give that billowy willowy look of cat o' nine tails blowing in breeze. (She didn't have a poker face either, believe me.)

Or the time my neighbor brought us a cake she made and upon one bite, my husband and I thought it was an iced roll of wet toilet paper. The same neighbor who criticizes every one else's cooking.

Or when playing golf with some conservative executives, one of them missed his shot and yelled "Son of a whore!!!!"

Or when I went to a famous comedy club in California with my father and older brother. It was all fun and games and laughing hysterically, until the famous comedian who shall remain nameless started talking about oral pleasure. And I was sitting between my FATHER and OLDER BROTHER. Vomit.

And PFT would have helped me even back in the day, when I was just getting situated in the world. Like when I came home one day and my roommate was wearing one of my dresses, that she cut the tags off.

Or when dining with a college boyfriend at his parents house for the first time, his mom called me his former girlfriends name, not once, not twice, but three times. And then wanted my help to clean up after dinner. And wash dishes. Lack of poker face on my part? Not once, not twice, but three times.

But, having a poker face at all time does have its drawbacks. Have you ever tried to give a really great surprise to someone who has mastered the art of poker face so well they show no emotion? I have and its a little less fun than it could be. Since we are a family of reactors, I know that reactors are ideal people to give gifts or plan great surprises. Because the enthusiasm is unbridled, the joy uncontained. And sometimes, seeing that face of exuberance is worth a million dollars.

So, as with many things in life, balance is the key. I am delighted that I show true excitement for all things wonderful, and I will continue to work on keeping it expressionless when necessary. But I think I have a long route, and it will not come easily as I am already making a face as I merely type the words.

Poker Face

Blogger is ailing me this am...Poker Face had to be reposted. See above.

Bird brain

After a little run late Monday afternoon, I walked to my car in the parking lot of this golf course. A man, thoroughly pissed, looks to be yelling at his car. As I approach my own vehicle, I am close enough in proximity to him to discover the source of his outrage. At first, I believe his face to be so red due to the heat and the fact he looks to have just played some golf.

Steps away from him, I realize his fury is over the fact he had bird caca all over his windshield.

He says to me, as I am the only one nearby, CANYOUBELIEVETHISSH*T?

Literally or figuratively? Well..yes on both accounts. We are both parked under a tree in effort to block some of the sun from igniting our interiors. And you had your top down, clown, so be glad there isn't a treat waiting on the seat for you. I don't answer him.

He clearly had a bad golf game, and probably a few el hozzels, because I have never seen someone get SO. PISSED. OFF. over this. He behaved as if he simply would not accept this travesty. I wanted to high tail it out of there before he either turned green and shredded his clothes a la a very unincredible Hulk, or the paramedics came to run the defibrillator.

As I take something out of my trunk, he asks me, like we are old pals, "What are you going to do when a bird sh*ts on your car?" First of all Bobby Knight, why don't you reduce the volume. You are yelling like a robbery victim. I didn't say that because he appeared to be ready to cut someone.

I looked at him as I got in my car. I think he is playing a trick question on me. So I say, "Ummmmmmmm. Wash it off?"

The funniest part is the look on his face as if he had NO IDEA what I was referring to....wash it off? What is this nonsense to which you refer?

I happened to notice his wedding ring when I went past him. Anyone who about hemorrhages over something so insignificant is probably a really neat spouse. If you like the male version of NO MORE WIRE HANGERS.

And yes, anyone can have a bad day. But even on my worst day, I didn't go apocalyptic over bird poop.

I hope his wife likes cocktails. In fact, I am sure she does.

Baby's all grown up

Going back for my 20 year reunion was not a trip down Memory Lane but rather an all inclusive party train tour of it. And oh, what a Lane it is.

Friday Night, we left the spouses behind (they were glad) and when I saw so many old friends, I swear, the longer we were together, the higher and higher the decibels rose. At one point, our screeching was both breaking glass, and luring horny bats.

First and foremost, let's comment on the appearances. People.Looked.FANTASTIC.
I swear. There are girls from my class who still have skin of 18 year olds. It must be in the water. And because so many of us keep in touch, the conversations were substantive. And seeing so many old faces was fun, and engaging. We graduated with over 500 classmates, so there was a lot of catching up to do.

Saturday night was the more formal affair which was laden with hundreds of old photographs. JohnnyMac saw some pretty little photos of me in giant hair and giant dresses. JohnnyMac was in awe. And not the good kind. Too late now to leave me JohnnyMac! Even when he saw my cheerleader pic in which my coiffure was actually bigger than my pompons.

And before I spoke, one of my girlfriends who has also done a lot of public speaking asked me if JohnnyMac loves listening to me speak in public. I laughed and said, Oh yes....because he sure doesn't get enough of me talking at home. Oh, wait, let me dip that last line in sarcasm.

So, perhaps you would like to join me for a bit of the Reunion Rewind?

There are SO many things to recall. Obviously, the mile high hair and bangs was standard operating procedure. Remember how big it was? Don't get near a fire or a big fan with those mops we carried. How did our necks survive? And the tight sausage curl bangs....like a tube of hair.

Remember the asymmetrical haircuts? Oh, I had one. Very very short on one side, and very very long on the other. Neat. And the Sun-In? NOT WISE BRUNETTE GIRLS! It turns out a rather dull shade of orange. NO ONE BELIEVES THAT IS FROM ACTUAL SUN. Maybe the Kool Aid Man, but absolutely NOT the sun.

And the parachute pants? That came in two sizes? Baggy or extra extra snug. I will take mine snug thank you. And who said you need to bend your knees to walk comfortably.

And what humors me is everything else we wore was incredibly too big. I had giant XL rugby shirts and then stuffed them into my tucked and rolled jeans. This is why we didn't need birth control then...because NO ONE wanted to frolic with a girl with 8 feet of shirt stuffed into her pants. This was a uniform at the Friday Night dance.

I loved to dance but let's face it, we sucked back then. We simply planted our feet, knew nothing about moving our hips, and moved our shoulders up and down to 'cause I've got to have faith, faith, faith... which actually sounded more like 'cause I've got to have FFFFFFFfaithaFFFFFFFFfaithaFFFFFFFFFFFfaith. Pronunciation of the F's = imperative.

And when we could barely do the Moonwalk, we thought we were smokin' hot breakdancers. And The Worm? I know of a few of you have done it too. And by a few I mean almost all of you.

I was doing The Worm once and my older brother walked in and asked me WTF I was doing. OH, DUMB ONE...its the WORM. You know what the Worm actually looks like? NOT PRETTY.

But one of the best elements of the reunion is knowing you have been friends with some of the same people for most of your life.

Two of my girlfriends I have maintained friendships with for 28 and 25 years respectively. Here is a pic of us the summer before we started high school.


And those friendships are still strong today. Through different colleges, different states, marriage, moving, and kiddos, I cherish them to this day. And these are the girls that know the best of you, and the worst of you, and still love you.



It is so humorous to revisit this plethora of old pictures. So innocent. And we were so safe then. Before we could drive, we would leave our houses after school and not return home until absolutely too dark to be outside.

I told my Mom it was such a different world then because people were not stealing children.
She nodded. And then said, "No, its just that no one was going to steal you." I am sure if I was taken, I would have been returned home within one hour.

In addition to that big hair, I owned eyeglasses comparable in size to a windshield for a small aircraft. But as my Father likes to say, at least I could see. Oh, I could certainly see. In fact, I was able to see cloud particles forming with all of the coverage those glasses provided.

And we were SO proud to drink Wine Coolers. I made a joke on Saturday night that how could you not like them? The word COOL was already in the name! And they were from
Cal-i-forn-ia.

And we held that Budweiser with pride. Budweiser that we "borrowed" from my Father's basement. This pic is from a party that we 1. should not have been at and 2. should NOT have provided photographic evidence of our presence. This was over 20 years ago...

And here is a pic of us now (oh, and I used photoshop (quickly and obviously, poorly) to include a pic of LG from the Friday Night party...because she looks better now then ever). Oh, what a difference in your hair when you don't use tiny curling irons and two cans of AquaNet.



Such innocent lambs...relatively. This was when 10 girls would split a four pack of coolers and STILL get drunk. And no one was dirty. No one booty called, sext'ed, FB, or late night MySpaced you. If anything, boys and girls would talk on the telephone. And before high school, the only thing a boy would call and say is, "Hey, my parents are gone. Do you want to come over and..... ride bikes?

Although I did see a boy there who told me I was his first kiss. I swear I have NEVER seen him before. I spent the next two days being told repeatedly by Taz and Tigger that I was his girlfriend. Hmmmm. Blame it on those California Coolers?

And on Sunday, we did a big family picnic. My son had the BEST time being catered to by all the little girls there. Oh, and playing in the bouncy house. Genius idea to get a bouncy house. We certainly had no bouncy houses when we were kids.

And in that very first picture above, is our friend The Soccer Star. That pic is from my parent's house, the night he met my best friend, Taz. They got married after graduation, and have been together ever since. They now have two wonderful, beautiful girls..also soccer stars. And TSS and JohnnyMac have developed a great friendship over the years. I am sure that made my 20 year reunion 5% more interesting for JohnnyMac since face it, NO ONE wants to go to someone else's high school reunion. Open bar or not.


But it was fantastic for me. All around such a great time, and the DJ did play Push It for me. And believe me, I am a MUCH better dancer now. And I promise you, I didn't even attempt to do The Worm.

No shots allowed: The Ultimate Football Game Makeover

Ahhh. Football season has officially begun. Or, what I like to call:

My husband's 5 month org_sm.

For those of you who follow US college football, you are already quite familiar with the SEC. With a majority of strong football programs, the schools in the South Eastern Conference are powerhouses on the field, and have historically great legacies in the world of college sports. In addition, University of Florida (Gators) have won several National Championships in the past decade.

Therefore, SEC fans consider themselves true fanatics of the game. What some might call "spirited" others might call rabid. In addition, these fans (and teams) live for rivalry games.

The SEC has some of the biggest rivalries in college game day history and one of the biggest is the annual Georgia v. Florida game. Also known simply as "Georgia Florida" or to hundreds of thousands of people: The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. Held every year in Jacksonville the last weekend of October, this is a football game unlike most college football games.

Two years ago, the University of Florida leadership under President J. Bernard Machen lobbied to eliminate people from referring to the game as The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. He thinks it undermines the overall goals of the school and reflects poorly on the institution as a whole.

Hmmmm. Let's review: He is the top administrator for the University of 50,000 students. He is advocating change in a positive direction. He is saying that a cocktail party and a football aren't necessarily soul mates. He would like to erase the correlation between alcohol and good times. Alright. I appreciate your earnest interest in drying up Jacksonville, if only for one day.

I don't need to be the one who discloses the fact that just because you call a stripper an "exotic entertainer" doesn't actually change anyone's real perception. But if you think you are going to change what hundreds of thousands of people have been referring to the Georgia Florida game weekend as for decade after decade, bravo for you. You must be a powerful man.

Now, President Machan has bigger plans. He wrote a letter to the Mayor of Jacksonville with the following demands requests:

1. Reduce the number of locations selling alcohol by 50 percent.

2. More investment of the city's time and wealth into curbing binge drinking at the game.

3. Completely prohibiting the sale of shots at the waterfront shopping area, Jacksonville Landing — a popular location for game revelers.
Well, let's pull out our clipboards and analyze.

First, go ahead and reduce the number of locations. I am sure that will stop everyone. By the way, I have been to this game. It IS the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party. The average age is more like 30 and not 20 like you might assume. People fly from across the county for this event.

Our tents at our tailgate had air conditioning and mounted flat screen tvs. Why? Because these are not college kids throwing these tailgates. They are CEOs and CFOs of companies all over the South. These are grown people with access to many grown up acoutrements. They plot and plan for this weekend for months. Do you know what else they do? Bring alcohol with them. You know the hundreds of grocery stores in Jacksonville? Yes, well, they all sell alcohol and unless you are going to search trunks pulling in the parking lot, mere reduction of locations will stop a very small percentage of people.

Secondly, I appreciate you want to curb binge drinking at the game. In fact, I encourage it. Nothing is more unpleasant than seeing grown men being firemen-carried out of the stadium before the second half. Binge drinking also leads grown men to remove their shirts whether or not their abs think it is a good idea. Binge drinking also leads to groping, farting, and various other levels of raucous behavior. You want to curb that? Well, curb on President Machan.

But finally, the shot ban? I am not degreed in Modern Behavior and Psychology but for fun, let's do some Social Algebra shall we? If you remove X (Shots) from Y (the Game and the Landing) in order to obtain Z (moderate and classy behavior) I assure you, this does not compute.

While I may only be the boss of one little student right now, even I know this approach has epic flaws. The primary reason these requests concern me is do we all not know by now what happens when you tell fanatics; spirited, rabid, or otherwise, that they can not do something? They do it in spades.

Do you know what flasks are? Tiny devices for storing alcohol in hidden places on one's person. Do you know that in the absence of flasks, grown people will fill sandwich bags with alcohol and place them in their underwear? Do you know that if you deny people shots they will plot like Army Rangers to not only bring alcohol in but bring it in like the proverbial locusts? Are you going to do body cavity searches at the gates? Please, think this through.

What you don't want is rioting on your hands and don't think grown people will not rebel and resist your suggestions. It will only backfire. Have fun the next day during clean up. I will watch the game safely from home.