I feel like I don’t have anything exciting to write. That may be a lie. Perhaps it’s just that so much has gone on without writing that the task seems a bit overwhelming.

I’ve been on a new word kick. I like to check on the word of the day so I can find cool obscure words and use them around people so I can see them get confused. I'm equally as happy when somebody actually knows that the hell I'm saying. I’m also the asshole who corrects my friends on grammar and verb usage. Thank goodness they love me, because I can see how that can get annoying, but really I'm not ever very excited to hang out with A Stupid. Can I help it if I want my niece to recognize the difference between being able to do something and being willing to? Nope, not this bitchy aunt. (And people, please learn the difference between “your” and “you’re” for fuck’s sake. I’ll let confusion with “who” and “whom” slide, but really…)

I’ve also been on a work-out kick. I’ve been trying to run at least 3 miles at the gym at least 3 times a week. It may or may not have something to do with this insanely huge tattoo I started to get on my person. I am seriously going to be half covered with one piece of amazingly fabulous artwork (more on that another time). I’ve also been talking about doing a Tough Mudder event with a guy I’m dating. If you haven’t heard of it, check it out- it’s a little on the crazy side, but why let running through flame throwers and wires with electrical currents scare you?

You only live once. Oh, and don't be a pussy. Good words to live by.

Second Annual Big Sur Camping

This last weekend was the second annual camping trip to Big Sur. Due to the huge fire last year we had to pick a new campground that wasn't burnt down and settled on the lovely Plaskett Creek. (I say this like I had anything to do with it, when in fact I had nothing to do with the planning.)

The group is about 20 people with the most thing in common being that we all like to eat good food and drink lots of booze. With every couple having a weekend assignment everybody ends up well fed and super hydrated.



We purchased a new tent this year, since I was sick of having to sleep on top of my bags as well as The Husband. Behold, the new castle:

We arrive in the early afternoon and begin to set up camp, while the first crew prepares dinner. What's great about this group is that cooking for 20 people always turns out great, in part because of every ones planning, but also because our neighbors take grilling very seriously and we always show up to the campsite with a full tow-behind pit. Yeah, professional. This is only one side of it:
Every time we go camping we end up with people walking by telling us they want to come with our group the next time. The Grill is impressive and shows people that we mean business, we've now got a good showing of very large tents, and always a plethora of games. The glow in the dark bocce ball didn't make it out this year, but we did have Cornhole and some ball throwing game that I was horrible at.
My favorite part of the weekend had to be our Booze Guy. After setting camp up we start drinking, and when The Booze Guy gets there he slams a large container of margaritas down. The next 24 hours was a bit of a fast-paced blur, but I did manage to take pictures and label them for every ones convenience:

Somehow a few of us started talking about gin, and when I mentioned the Bombay Sapphire was the best, The Booze Guy stood up from his camping chair, spiked his open beer into the fire and stormed away, only to return with a fabulous Costco bottle of liquid deliciousness.

We didn't tap into it the first night, but instead drank the rest of the margaritas, beer, and Crown. I woke up still under the influence at 6AM to start preparing for breakfast, and The Booze Man showed up at 7 and began making his magic Gin Fizzes. We finished the bottle well before noon, and after breakfast a nap was in order.

In the afternoon we walked to the beach- one of the nicest on the central coast in my opinion.

This was our sunset:

*Sigh* Gotta love California.

I Smell You

We need to talk about this and it needs to be serious.

Who the f*@k came up with the concept for the Hollister stores?

Really- I need to know. And not only that, but who approved it? Are the sales for a store that you are unable to not only see in, hear in, but even smell in, really justifying it?

In a desperate search for khakis last night we decide to walk in and take a quick peak around. Besides the over-powering perfume smell, the music was so loud that when an employee asked us…uh, something, we obviously couldn’t hear fuck-all.

I will concede that I am not necessarily their target shopper. I am not 14, my wardrobe does not consist of 22 pairs of the same but different show-my-cooter-booty shorts and skirts and leave-nothing-to-the-imagination-shirts (OK, I still have a few of those), nor do I feel like dropping my panties at every pre-pubescent surfer boy that works there. That does not mean that they should make it impossible for me and those like me to peruse their wares and perhaps by a gift for somebody other than myself.

But let’s continue to be honest here. I really don’t think they want me there. First, you smell the store 200 meters before you can even see the damn store front, which smells like they have spilled a gallon of what I can only compare to the present teenagers version of our Cool Water Cologne. When you finally do come up to the store the only thing you can focus on is the insanely over-sexual headless mannequins. The pants on the males are so low you are barely spared the sight of his mock junk.

Why yes, my grandma would totally buy things for her grandkids here, thank you for asking.

There is one 15-17 year old girl by the front of the store who is apparently stuck behind a table, and as I walk around the women’s half of the store I realize…I can’t see a damn thing. My eye sight is impeccable, but I’d be damned if I would be able to search for a specific color because there was nothing but low lighting. We quickly leave since The Hubby claims he’s rapidly loosing brain cells and may strangle a small boy.


Our mistake was coming back a short time later since one shirt on the girly mannequin was so cute I decided I had to try it on.

We walked in and the aforementioned girl is complaining to some surfer boy about how cold it was behind her little table (of course it’s cold, we’re in Monterey. Maybe wear something that would indicate that you understand we’re not in San Diego. Like a sweater. Do they sell those here??) I see the shirt I like on another mannequin in front of Girl, and although I am polite and say "excuse me", they fail notice despite being a foot in a half away. The Hubby says it again louder, and when they look up he asks if they work here, and the girl gives him a dirty look since they obviously do. We ask where the shirt in question would be located and they said they were out.
“What about the one on the mannequin?”
“We can’t sell clothes off the mannequins.”
"Excuse me?"
"We can't sell the clothes that are on the mannequins."
“Well that makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Uhh…Sorry.”
As I was dragging him out of the store he began to ask if we could just steal it off of the mannequins since they didn’t care to pay attention to their customers anyways. I’m not sure how much they heard, but when we were completely out he proclaimed that that store is an example as to why some people commit suicide.

I found this on the web, comparing Hollister and Wet Seal:
DIFFERENT WORLDS.
Within the first five feet, Hollister's total experience (left) envelops you with its clean beach smell, faux beach shack facade, and outfitted mannequins all leaving no doubt what's inside for the 'dudes' and 'bettys'.
The Wet Seal experience (right) is the polar opposite of Hollister with its bland gray walls and overwhelming clutter leaving the shopper feeling bewildered and unhinged.
© 2006 Haynes & Company

Um, what Hollister did you go to? I spent part of my time during university living by the beach and I can assure you- THAT is not a clean beach smell, but rather it is an “I’m high and I need to cover the weed smell from my mom” smell. And apparently “outfitted” excludes shirts for male mannequins. Furthermore, this “faux beach shack” is more like a faux private beach house in Laguna Beach.

Spring has (kind of) Sprung

We had two 100 degree days, followed by some not so great days and now it's cold out. Mother Nature obviously thinks she's funny.

In preparation for spring The Hubby slapped this together:

We've yet to get the soil to add to it, but we do have green beans ready to be planted, as well as these cucumbers that were gifted to us:We live in the "Salad Bowl of the World", and even though neither one of us works in the produce industry almost everyone else does. This leads to things like getting free plants, free bags organic dried cranberries, loads of lettuce- including some custom stuff you can't get in the specialty stores yet, and watching everybody jump on their Blackberry's at the same time while camping in the middle of nowhere because of a contamination scare (last year it was tomatoes, the year before was spinach). I now know more about produce and the produce industry than I ever cared to.

Speaking of killing things, I thought our poor little lemon tree was doomed by the end of winter, but amazing things happen when you actually start taking care of things. Ya know, like giving it water and taking it out of the container it's been in for a year:

The nice thing is that pretty much anything grows in this damn hard soil we have. We also had some flowers gifted to us that we've yet to plant- let's hope I don't kill those before we can manage to get them in the ground. Why did my mother not pass on her green thumb? Mine is sort-of a faint green-ish, but usually only when in-doors.

Bonus Picture:

This is Innocent M's kid when she went shopping for hats with us before Drag Queen Bingo. We're training her to be fabulous, obviously.

It's Britney Bitch.

Yes, it was Britney, bitch, and in all her lip-syncing glory too.

Innocent M and I made it to the hotel to meet the other two girls we were staying with, who were already two Strip and Go Naked’s ahead of us…well ahead of me since IM doesn’t drink. I had met Amy before since she went to high school with IM, but the other girl was new to me. I felt at ease and knew we’d be BFF when shortly after meeting me she said “Fuck this shit, which one of you bitches is holding my hair back later while I puke?” Ahhh, yes- this is gonna be good.

Here are a few things I learned this weekend, in no particular order:

1. Innocent M has a lot of patience.

2. A group of married women and a few blenders of booze make for a lot of free entertainment.

3. Even when you think you’re going to get into a bathroom brawl, it is possible for everyone to come out of it as best friends. But usually only when there is lots of booze involved with each individual present.

4. Innocent M has a lot of patience.

5. Too many Strip and Go Naked’s can lead to telling everyone you meet to have a “Happy Resurrection Weekend”.

6. We are not the only group that will yell “It’s Britney Bitch” to random strangers. We were, however the only ones to yell “Happy Resurrection Weekend”.

7. You should always eat dinner if you’re going to go to a concert after and have three double cocktails, after you’ve already had five singles.

8. You can never have too many “your mama” comments or “fuck your face” comments between friends. Luckily we were sober enough to know that this does not apply to strangers.

9. Innocent M has a lot of patience.

10. Tostitos Cheese Dip does not sound like it’s a good thing to puke up.

I was a little weary at first about wearing my lace shirt, but by the looks of things when we got there I was more on the conservative side than I initially thought, and I actually got lots of compliments on it. The Girls were only on mild display, while others had their ass and tits out on full display. In fact, I wonder how some of those young girls got out of the house in what they were dressed in- my dad and my brother would have punched me in the face and locked me in my room. I think Marie got a picture, which I'll post when I nab it from her.

This is a photo I'd like to entitle: Bad Idea #1:Chasing a vodka shot with your cup o' booze is not the smartest thing, but worse has happened. I usually make it a rule to never shoot vodka, which makes me wonder why I ignored that rule this time.

When you get to a concert you want to minimize the number of times you get up, since of course you wouldn't want to miss a thing, right? Well this simple fact, along with ignoring my no vodka shooting rule, leads us to a great Bad Idea #2:

Naturally, you're going to go to the booze stand and each get two double cocktails...Naturally. If you're Amy though, and you're so hard core you don't even bother eating dinner when the rest of us were, you also go back for another after the opening act, but this time with Jaeger. This is her Bad Idea #3, of which I neglected to take a picture of, as well as the consiquences of Bad Idea #3- lucky her.

Here's how classy we are after aforementioned cocktails. "Hi Mom!!":

I had to include this next picture, because it's the only sober woman in our group, and she's doing the robot. In public. Did I mention she's sober? I love Innocent M.

I think I may have even been beat-boxing when she was doing this. Now that I think of it, I may just want to beat-box every time I see this photo.

Towards the end I'm pretty sure I got mad at Innocent M because she wouldn't take our drunk-asses to the club at midnight- but I will admit that it was probably the wise thing for her to do, since Amy began puking at 3:30 AM, and was still in the bathroom when we left the hotel in the morning...At 10. As the rest of us are cringing at her dry-heaves and Marie jumped into her mom role getting everything packed for her, Innocent M looked at us and said"See, this is why I don't drink." Marie and I laughed, and I pointed out the two of the three of us were fine, and she needed to reevaluate her odds.

I didn't think I was hung-over, until I went to Safeway and got a Pepsi, chocolate donuts, and a banana. That is a hungover breakfast of champions. Gross.

P.S. Just an FYI: I am officially changing “Beef Curtains” to “Flap Steak”. Don’t ask, just go with it.

Who said Hockey is White Trash??

I almost forgot! The Hubby and I went to our first professional hockey game this last Thursday with our neighbors; Sharks v. Coyotes.

Not only did we have a free parking pass, but our sets were in row ten in the club level. We got there when the doors opened and went straight for the club bar (of course). I couldn't decide on what I wanted to drink until I had my first sip of beer and knew immediately I wanted a gin & tonic. I asked my new buddy Rich, who looked like he's been a bartender in the conspicuous bar that sits on the corner of every town and has no windows since about 1967. Complete with missing teeth and husky voice. Talk about a heavy hand. I've had bartenders before who would pour a bit beyond the shot being full, but good ol' Rich not only over-flowed that, but kept pouring into the teeny-tiny plastic cup...With a *dash* of tonic. Holy Sweet Jesus, there is a gin god.

(I should note here that I have learned, as has The Hubby, to not try and keep pace with the neighbor, who is about 250 and drinks like a fish. He has 2.5 Crown and 7's to my one G & T.)

Since the game was about to start I decided that it was a good idea to get a double so I could save myself a trip and focus on the game. By this time the bar was packed, with two thirty-something guys next to me, then two 60 somethings next to them curving around the bar. I ordered my double Sapphire & tonic. The young guys said that there was nothing quite like a little blond girl ordering a double. The older guys not only told me that I was amazing for having a taste for Sapphire, since that's what they were drinking, but that I was a "keeper" due to the fact that I ordered a double. I didn't mention that I was just lazy and wanted a nice gin buzz. Rich asked if I wanted a small or large cup, then proceeded to pour what was more like three and a half shots into my double. I walked to our seats as a happy small blond girl. Here's my only picture of the night:

Bless crazy Rich and his heavy hand. It makes me not as mad to pay $16 for a drink. I don't remember logistics of the game (I had one more single G&T), except that it was amazingly fun and exciting. I even jumped out of my seat a few times.

I'll never watch hockey on TV, but I'll be dammed if I ever turn down a ticket to actually go to the game.

Cast Party

Ahhh...the party.

Being in a stage show full of exhibitionist has its perks.

I'm still recovering from the cast party at Boob's house. I gave him the gin-in-a-can I found at the grocery store as a host present, thinking he'd get a laugh out of it (We're all Bombay Sapphire snobs). The following picture was taken in his kitchen, although it's not really what you think it is. Honest.

*Photos courtesy of GrillMan, since I was too busy to take my camera out of my purse. They are also from his hold-the-camera-to-the-side-without-aiming technique. This made them post-able without being cropped by coincidence. =)

Not only have I run 3x this week (and soon to be fourth), but my hydrangea is doing so-so. A week to kill, a year to bring back?

Considering that at one point it only had three leaves, I think it's doing well.

The lemon tree would be planted by now, but there's been a bit of a debate with The Hubby on where to plant it.

Last night I made shrimp scampi- the real way, not just with the marinade they give you at the seafood counter. I think it turned out well- except that since I mistakenly used table salt instead of kosher or sea salt, it was a little sodium rich. Next time not only am I using the correct salt, but I'm still cutting the amount back, as well as reduce the amount of lemon too. I guess I can't have two amazing dishes in a row.

Now that I look at it too- the picture doesn't make it look too appetizing. It sure did make all the beer I drank last night hit me hard though.

Tomorrow is Booty's 28Th birthday. What are we doing? Well, we're doing what we always default to having grown up in Sonoma County: Wine Tasting. Turns out it's Winter Wineland this weekend, which can be seen as both a good and bad thing.

A Thursday Night in Nowhere

I'm trying to get us to eat more fish lately.

Not only do I love beef, but my favorite fish tend to be the ones you shouldn't eat more than once or twice a month due to stupid mercury levels. That being said, I realize that salmon is one of the best fish to eat (omega3-blah-blah-blah), but I really really hate that fish. Because it's so good for you though, I keep my eye open for recipes that look like they may mask the taste pretty well.

Salmon in lemon brodetto with pea puree.

Why I would pick this I have no idea. Not only do I not care for salmon, but I hate peas with a passion- they actually activate my gag reflex (which caused me to almost puke on my grandma when I was little).

When I told Innocent M about it she immediately said she would leave the mint out of the recipe, but I figure that since I'm making a dish that already has things I don't like in it, I might as well include the ingredient that makes me think of delicious adult beverages too.

Perhaps one of the things I was drawn to was the fact that it had garlic in it. I like to put garlic in anything I can, and in this case it called for one clove so naturally I put two. After the peas, mint, garlic, salt & pepper, and EVOO we pureed together I mixed it with dry jack (it called for Parmesan, but close enough). Interesting, isn't it? It was at this point that I realized that you don't cook it. Or heat it up. Huh. So raw peas. Riiiight.

The brodetto was easy, and when I tasted it it was on the lemony side, but after trying the two separately you could tell that they would marry well. As seen here before the salmon was on top:

It was a recipe for four, so not only were our salmon fillets too big, and I added too much brodetto to each bowl, but the puree was a little on the not-so-stiff side. I'm not sure if this is due to the change in cheese, or if I pureed it too long.

The salmon made the puree smoosh into the brodetto, which irritated me since I was trying o get a pretty picture, but when we tried it- yeah, amazing. Not only did is not have a huge salmon taste, but the peas didn't taste like peas, and you couldn't even tell there was a crap-load of mint in there. I would probably tweak a few things, but nothing much- and I am definitely cooking this for guests at some point or another.

Now I just have to get a delicious wine to pair with it.

101 Things in 1001 Days

Kate did this, so I thought I may give it a try too. Especially since 1001 in way days sounds like a really long time (Aprox 2.75 years). I should mention that I started this blog weeks ago, but I'm lame and couldn't think of 101 things. Meanwhile I'm seeing Kate cross off a bunch of crap on her list and as of today I only had 7 things down. (You'd think since I live in the middle of nowhere I could find the time to make a list...)

Per Kate- and the person she stole it from- I must complete 101 preset tasks in a period of 1001 days. The tasks must be specific (i.e. no ambiguity in the wording) with a result that is either measurable or clearly defined. Tasks must also be realistic and stretching (i.e. represent some amount of work on my part).

As I perused the Internet for inspiration, I realized that, well, I've already done a lot of stuff. Although exciting to think about, it just made coming up with new things that much harder. I realize that they don't have to be anything that's a big ordeal, but I am already the queen of multi-tasking, so shit tents to get accomplished around me.


So here's my effort at a long list of crap I'll try to accomplish:

1. Bring my hydrangea back to full glory


2. Actually plant my lemon tree
   
3. Get an ice cream maker (and not buy store-bought crap again).


4. Learn more about sewing- including how to operate my sewing machine
   
5. Back-up all the pictures on my computer


6. Gain 5 lbs of muscle
   
7. Lose 2 fatty pounds. =)


8. Start running again (at least 3x per week)


9. Spend at least a weekend in Lake Como


10. Visit Mom in Florida twice


11. Go to NY
12. Buy a random person coffee


13. Send something to postsecret


14. Have my S.O. at faire at least three of the six weekends


15. Help somebody learn a new skill
    
16. Visit the Grand Canyon
    
17. Have a romantic moment in the canals of Venice


18. Hike across Switzerland
    
19. Publish one of my poems
    
20. Go to the theatre at least 4 times
    
21. Have a food fight. (A very messy one, and not worry about the mess it makes.)
    
22. Visit the Pyramids at Giza, Egypt
    
23. Read a classic novel
    
24. Finish scrapbooking my past travels
    
25. Be so happy that I cry
    
26. Share a martini with a/some good friend(s) at least once a month
    
27. Learn to cook 6 foreign dishes
    
28. Trace my family tree as far back as possible
    
29. Test drive a car I can't afford
30. Bungee Jump
    
31. Give a stranger a compliment
    
32. Go on two picnics
    
33. Spend one night a week NOT on my computer or iPhone
    
34. Make it to one of Boob's Bad Movie Nights
    
35. Commission a bustle dress to be made for me
    
36. Practice my millinery for aforementioned bustle dress
    
37. Go to an art opening
    
38. Spend an afternoon snowboarding on nothing by black diamond runs.
    
39. Try four new vegetables
    
40. Bury a grudge
    
41. Surprise someone twice
    
42. Cut high fructose corn syrup out of my diet
43. Buy a puppy
    
44. Learn two new words a week (English or German)
    
45. Meet a foreign diplomat
    
46. Move back to London (Ha! What a long shot...)
    
47. Start doing pilates and yoga again
    
48. Buy a new computer
    
49. Set up my digital picture frame
    
50. Find a plant that needs very little sunlight for around the wine rack in the hallway
    
51. Put that really neat concrete stuff on the garage floor
    
52. Clean out my closet for Good Will
    
53. Buy new boots
    
54. Teach my brother a new dish to cook to impress the bitches
    
55. Find the best onion soup in SF
    
56. Host a cocktail party
    
57. Teach my cat how to fetch beer from the fridge
    
58. Teach somebody how to appreciate Belgian beer
    
59. Take my dad wine tasting
    
60. Write 10 more poems
    
61. Finally get HD tv
    
62. Get a new car when mine finally dies
    
63. Bike 10 miles (at once)
    
64. Make it to Drew Day at Disneyland next year


65. Host a Christmas party
    
66. Watch the sun rise
    
67. Make love under the stars
    
68. Visit an exploratory museum
    
69. Put my toes in an ocean/sea/gulf that I haven't yet
    
70. See glaciers in person


71. Attend the Black & White Ball in SF
    
72. Go to Canada


73. Stay in hotel for no reason
    
74. Fix my iTunes problems

Although there is not 101 here, the rest of the list is complete, just not suitable for a public format. Maybe I'll write them when I get to cross them off, but for now they'll be in a safe place. The ones I did not disclose here to me about 10 minutes to write, as the other ones took me all day. Funny how that works out...

The End Has Come, Again.

One of my favorite things about the Dickens Christmas Fair is doing window modeling for Dark Garden Unique Corsets. If you're not familiar with it, you are basically positioned in a window as a live mannequin for an hour while changing position ever five minutes or so. The window can be whatever theme you come up with (with limitations, of course) and can be done alone or with a partner.

One of my windows this year was with Big A (duh), and was German themed. Yeah...We were cute.

You constantly have people trying to make you break and smile- waving, blowing kisses, even doing some, uh...lewd actions. The cutest is when you get a small child that is so enamored with you that s/he doesn't want to leave the window.

Sometimes you're lucky and are able to bribe somebody like GrillMan to take really good pictures for you in exchange for booze, so I'll give him his credit.

My favorite window thus far has been the one I did for the closing weekend where I covered myself in butterflies and had a butterfly catcher. I even had some guy propose to me in front of my window.

So now the fun is over until next year. Hopefully my NYE will be better than my Christmas- which included 6 hours of agonizing puking. Thank you Grandma's cooking!

I kid, I kid...Kinda.

"Tis the Season...

...To not blog.

I have been busy. Super busy with the Dickens Fair, where we all dress up and talk funny while drinking lots of champers. Oh, and we're quite Christmas-y too.

The best thing about last weekend (that is blog-admissible) was our gift to Boob- which is obviously his nick-name and it should be obvious why.

(Duh, the man loves boobs.)

Since his birthday falls during Dickens and we are in a wonderful show together, every year for the last 4 we have done something for him. The first year it was a 45 (?) boob salute while singing Happy Birthday. Another year it was a boob crown and boob sugar cookies (both made my yours truly), we've given him a huge bottle of his favorite gin, because we all happen to be fans of his Boob-tini's, and all the ladies have tried to strip him bare. This year I felt we had to up the anti. I got one of our lovely cast members to take pictures of every body's breasts. Just the breasts. I was going to compile them all into a lovely little photo album, when another cast member suggested I take the plunge into the modern era: Do a digital frame.
Hello- brilliant!
So we did. And he got it, and it's on shuffle. He confessed on Sunday that he cannot match all the boobs to all the cast members, which I think is hilarious since he thought he stared at them enough. Obviously he's going to have to work on his memory skills. Oh- and all the men are in there also, which I thought would be a nice touch.

OK- that is all. Oh, and Merry X-mas and stuff.

Yum Me...

I mean yummy...


My neighbor brought over a large bag of apples- wonderful organic apples from a friend's farm.
I'm finding it's quite nice to have friends in the produce industry. She also let me use a nifty gadget that suctions down and peels and cores things. I wasn't worried about getting them ready to cook, but this seriously was so easy that it made me want to have an apple peeling and coring party. With vino.




I decided to try my first apple crisp, because a) I didn't have any pie shells, and really making a pie shell from scratch isn't my thing, and b) it sounded easy.




Doesn't it look kind of like a pineapple?



I made the topping, tossed it all in a pyrex pan, and cooked it for 30 minutes.


Before:




Yeah baby, those are oats in there.

After:

I impress myself...but I also only used 3 apples.

Tomorrow will be an apple extravaganza.

P.S. Just because, here's my amazing salad which went amazing with the home made amazing pesto I put on whole grain pasta and amazing organic chicken breasts. There was a whole lot of fresh basil going on...(I'd post the salad recipe, but that's an amazing secret I'm keeping- but I will tell you that the stuff on top is all fresh garlic.)

It's all about the Schnitzel, baby.

OMG how the hell could I forget about Schnitzel-Giggle Friday night?! The yearly girls-only theme party where the only guys in the building are slaves to the partying women. What a blast. There was Hoegaarden on tap and schnapps jello shots. Oh- and lots of schnitzel. By now they've learned that if you're going to have that much free booze it's smart to offer free food too. And what's better than a plethora of sausage? Nothing, and yeah, the ladies loved it. The Schnitzel Board got some awesome comments on it by the end of the night. We thought this picture would be funny, but really it was starting to smell awful. Not a good sign when you're schnitzel smells bad:
Fuck. Yes.

I should mention that we had no idea what we were going to wear until 11PM thew night before. Thank goodness we're some crafty bitches. That St.Pauli bitch ain't got nothin' on me. (How about that for some wonderful grammar?)

Speaking of slave boys (because aren't we always?). The few men that are allowed in are supposed to be at all the women's beckon call. Because I'm that creative, we'll call these three slaves Chocolate Love, White Thunder, and Big Daddy. See the awesomeness that is the slave boys:

Doing what they're told. Isn't GiggleFest great? There were no complaints about the actual schnitzel either:

I will say that the night was a success. Who wouldn't while surrounded by all that schnitzel?