titusnowl: (bond)
I decided to try a bastardized version of the James Bond martini.

The traditional recipe calls for 3 parts gin, 2 parts vodka, 1 part Kina Lillet, and a twist of lemon.

Problem #1: they don't make Kina Lillet anymore.  You can get Lillet Blanc, but Kina had quinine in it, and Blanc does not.
Problem #2: we don't have any Lillet Blanc, either, and the liquor store was closed.

Solution: Lillet is sort of like a dry vermouth.  We have dry vermouth.  Quinine is bitter (it's what makes tonic water so terrible to drink straight, but also so wonderful to drink with gin in it).  We have bitters.

What I made: 5 parts gin, 1 part vermouth (mixed dry and sweet, because it turns out somebody consolidated both our types of vermouth into one bottle), a splash of Angostura bitters.

It tastes delicious.  It's bittersweet, evocative of suave nightlife and tuxedos and leather upholstery and an inevitable cigarette.

It tastes like knowing the girl you're about to kiss will either be dead, or trying to cause you to be, by the end of the night.
titusnowl: (dallas 1937)
During Prohibition the purchase, sale and manufacture of alcohol were all illegal, but it was not illegal to actually drink it.  Kind of like some places where you can smoke weed but you can't possess it, you know?

Well, apparently that loophole still exists around here.  There's a restaurant in town that just lost its liquor license, and can no longer sell alcohol.  They can, however, GIVE ALCOHOL AWAY.

So instead of going out for Mexican and buying a margarita, you go out for Mexican and get a margarita for free!

titusnowl: (whatte ye swyve)
There was this building which was actually like a giant convention center, but the upstairs was a labyrinthine antiques store; the lights were out and it was haunted, but I had to go up there to retrieve my fiddle.  I didn't want to go alone because I knew that it was haunted - I had had bad experiences with its ghosts - so I convinced this like teenage goth boy who was hanging around with some of his goth buddies to come up with me because he was the only person handy.

So we went up and found my fiddle and it was very very small and we brought it downstairs and I opened it up (the case had ribbons tying it shut instead of latches) and it was made of toast, and i said "Oh. It's made of toast."

I went outside to try to practice it a little while everyone waited for a bus and the bus didn't come so the people who were in charge of the convention center decided that Justin and I and my friend Carrie and the goth boy had to all marry each other - big old four-way wedding - and I was not sure I wanted to include the goth boy but they were adamant.  The trouble, you see, was that I knew he was going to grow up to be a white supremacist.  I turned on a TV and it showed footage of the goth boy all grown up to be a white supremacist, with a swastika tattooed on his Adam's apple.  But he said he wouldn't really mean it and he would grow out of it, and we had to include him in the mass marriage anyway.

Afterwards I played my fiddle some more and somebody said "This is just like that episode of Days of our Lives."

the end.

And the other day I dreamed that I went back in time to the 1890s and went shopping at the Macy's in Herald Square, where I purchased a metal Partridge Family lunchbox before going up to the Ladies' Lacey Unmentionables Department (it was called such on the sign), where I met Kiefer Sutherland, who made fun of me for having a Partridge Family lunchbox.
titusnowl: (atomic liquor)
For research purposes, I needed to partake of sufficient alcohol to make listening to jazz music become a tactile sensation.  This was no end entertaining, until this morning.  Ugh.

Feeling better now.
titusnowl: (house pills)
Last night I was so drunk that I actually acted drunk on the internet.  I can usually hold my liquor better than that.  I was also so drunk that a bag of Cheez Doodles seemed like a legitimate thing to eat for dinner.  Luckily I was not so drunk that I woke up with a hangover, so I suppose it's alright in the end.
titusnowl: (Default)
Sloe gin fizzes sure go down easy.
titusnowl: (Default)
The past week has been a blur of alcohol, cigarettes, crack-addled fanfiction and sleep deprivation.  I worked 40 hours on 12 hours of sleep, plotted/engineered and participated in a sort of panfandom RPG story about Psmith, Marlowe, a Stargate Atlantis character and an illegal offshore cat-racing casino, killed half a pack of Luckies and most of a fifth of gin, and gone shopping for a dress to wear to a wedding and come home with a sort of flapper-thing that Justin's mother will probably disapprove of. 

How was your week?
titusnowl: (Default)
Tonight I am trying two new beverages:  Jarritos Mexican soda in a flavor named "Jamaica," and brandy (St. Rémy Napoléon).  Not together, I mean.
titusnowl: (psmith)
Psmith mentions gin and ginger beer in one of the books about him, and I can testify that (assuming ginger beer and ginger ale are the same thing) it is fuckin' delish.
titusnowl: (atomic liquor)
"Lipstick" was the nom de plume of Lois Long, one of the original columnists for the New Yorker during the Roaring Twenties, when it was actually funny. She specialized in getting drunk as a lord, going from speakeasy to speakeasy all night, hiring a cab at 6:00 in the morning, throwing up twice in the back of the cab, crawling through the doors of the magazine's office building, throwing up again in the lobby, hauling herself to her typewriter, banging out her copy, donning roller-skates to deliver it to her assistant on the other side of the building, throwing up a couple more times, stripping naked because she was overheated, having sex with her husband (a cartoonist for the mag) on the couch in the lobby, having another drink to set her up for the day, passing out, and repeating the following evening. A bartender dedicated this drink to her, the consummate flapper.

Lipstick Cocktail
2 parts champagne
1 part gin
1 part orange juice
Splash pineapple juice
Splash cherry cordial

30 GOTO 10
titusnowl: (buttz lol)
"Let's put trash in the trash can midget!"
"Shut up, trash can midget! Have an empty coffee cup!"
"Trash can midget! Ha ha ha!"

also it is fun to translate r2's beeping into language

C3P0: I thought that hairy beast would be the end of me!
R2D2: Beep blip whistle! [That's what your mother said last night]

and there is at least one instance in which it is very obvious that "BLIP BEEP" means "fuck you"


titusnowl: (Default)
titus n. owl

February 2015

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