4 Lovelies

Nobody's a stranger to the blues. I find myself, every so often, in a tear soaked jumpsuit, nursing a homemade "mudslide" crafted from sugar free Nestle Quick and vodka, wondering why the hell some days are better than others. Generally, this state lasts only a few hours, until I remind myself to think of 4 lovely things.

I've started to do this on a daily basis. Since then, things have been pretty sunny.

Today's 4 lovely things:

1. Lemonade made with meyer lemons from my sister's tree (I am presently enjoying this beverage)
2. Today is the first day I saw rosebuds on the bush outside my apartment
3. Hammocks, in general
4. The time my family posed for a Christmas portrait wearing fake mustaches

If you have 4 things lovely rattling around your brain, post 'em, peeps.

McNuggetinis? McNuggetinis.

I can't begin to describe the experience of drinking a cocktail made form 100% McDonald's ingredients*. Not to mention, it was my first-ever martini garnished with meat.

Behold: the McNuggetini.


Hop over to Georgia's blog for the full scoop, the recipe and the play by play, as captured by her lovely sister Leah, who happens to be a highly regarded professional photographer. Georgia envisioned a 50s housewife mood, which explains my ironically smug facial expressions. Except for when we start wretching. Those were all real, y'all.

Seriously, have a look. It's revoltingly delicious.

Clink,
Ward

*To be factual, it was approx 15% Absolut Vanilla by volume. One cannot drink through a rim of barbecue sauce without some vodka waiting on the other side to dull the nausea.

I can haz weeknd?

There were many, many reasons to arrive Sunday night with nostalgia for the weekend just passed. Besides the the birth of the long-gestated McNuggitini (more to come on that), there were

1. People taking their trousers off playing Rock Band:



2. Articulating, through means of a size 000 brush, the affection of strangers:


3. Washing a load of stripes,


...plus: staying up until 3am talking to girlfriends I've known since I was 14, reading a book in a laundromat, some laps around a track, and eating really enormous shrimp.

All in all, it was a well-earned weekend, lavishly enjoyed. Did I mention that I ate shrimps the size of my fist? Duuude.

Enjoy your Monday, have a green beer and save a high five for me.

Over/out,
Ward

Thoisday!

Happy Thursday morning, peeps!

Some things which are awesome:

1. Sleeping in my bed, instead of folded up on my loveseat with a book under my face

2. Waking up at 8 am and running (slowly) before work

3. Making ice blendeds at home, thereby avoiding the $5 latte that has come to exemplify American spending habits.

4. Going to artwalk tonight, and carousing around with pals that I wish I saw more often.


I'll come back with pictures of my favorite art work laters, folks. I'm crossing my fingers for pho.

High five,
Lady Mc Wardelby

Speaking of speakeasies...

This weekend I got an urge to live like a mobster.

Squeamish about thrill killing, I decided my best course of action was to just open a speakeasy in my garage. I pictured a circle of my friends playing penny poker and sipping whiskey from mismatched glasses. Maybe a cigar would be brandished, and I would wear pinstripes.

But everyone wanted to go to Punky Reggae instead.

La Cita was a mess: festering, sweaty, dude-heavy. We soon split to Charlie O’s to find it empty, save for a ghost-y figure dancing alone on the parquet floor. One round later, we wandered outside to discover that MJ Higgins, an art gallery in the bottom floor of the ramshackle Alexandria Hotel, was far from closing up shop. Past a doorman with a fierce ZZ Top goatee, the gallery was a maze of work by downtown artists, and the hotel lobby was throbbing with men, disco lights, and remixed pop. A speakeasy, in full swing. But not quite the vibe I was looking for.

We heard a whisper from the bouncer about yet another speakeasy, six blocks away. “Look for some scary people loitering in an alley,” he advised. Duly noted.



We tiptoed past sleeping bags, saw rats the size of chihuahuas and argued about the order of the downtown streets until we found the alley, and the scary loitering people. It was dank, and smelled like the elephant exhibit at the St. Louis Zoo. Turning on heels, we started back to the car. “Dude, I know an awesome speakeasy.” Georgia said. “It’s called “Alie’s Garage.”

Until next time, comrades, stay safe, and watch out for rodents of unusual size.


Miss Alie Ward

PS- this post also went up on mah work blog, but absent from that entry are pictures of Sharpie neck tattoos, arguably the best part of the weekend.

F the LBC

...and Georgia and Katherine get Sharpied...and probably skin poisoned.

Popcorn for dinner again.

As I'm sneaking this post in during work, I'm just going to play the "If I could" game with myself:

1. Eat anything right now: it would be braised swordfish in some sort of fancypants wine reduction sauce with a side of some sort of really delicious potato item. And an iced tea, lightly sweetened with a bullshit hippy sweetener like stevia. Posh!

2. Be anywhere right now: I would be in a garage in a state other than California, with warm air at night, in a hammock, with some paintings drying nearby, and a crappy boombox playing Grizzly Bear's "Knife."

Rather, I'm still at work. But "work" today involved a long chat with the director of the Steve Allen Theater about a guy who was born in a carnival, then I ate some chocolate, watched a trailer for the movie "The Thing"(research) and am now re-writing a story about Bjork and some yaks. Not too shabby.

Deadlines loom, so I'm off to finish them up. Please tell no one of this egregious time mis-management.

High five,