Xanax For Sale

For dinner last night:

2 martinis
1 vodka & tonic
1 piece of white chocolate cake

Starbucks, why ya' got to do wrong by me?

Your sweet smell of caffeinated goodness has never failed me.  I abide by your crazy assed multi-adjective menu system and bow to the power of your baristas.  I mean, I have even been given full permission to spend all my money there since the boy has so much stock with you.

But this?  It seemed good and refreshing, and green is so totally the color for this summer, but YUCK.  The frappaccino tastes like a vanilla milkshake and the lemonade something more god awful than <shudder> concentrate.

Barf.

When I was very young, I thought my father was Italian.

All of his friends were Italian with very, very Italian last names like Romano, De Luca, and Mancini.  In fact, my godfather was an Italian man named Tyrone Fusani.  We dined on delicious Italian dishes of with sauces to die for made with tomatoes and basil picked from their gardens.  Savory cured meats and cheeses accompanied baskets full of fresh breads, and it wasn't until I was a teenager that I stopped thinking that every bottle of wine had wicker around its base.

Last night was a night meant for familiar comfort food to fight off the chill of the wind and rainstorms of the evening.  I needed something quick and simple - spaghetti and meatballs, eh?  The problem was not that I didn't know how to boil water, and I've given up making sauce after finding a much better, pre-made option, but I've never made a meatball.  You'd think they were just balls of ground meat, right?  Apparently things go in the meat first.  Some breadcrumbs, garlic, an egg, and a great use for the oregano that's growing like a weed in my tiny garden.  They were easy enough, though:  mix, roll, and pop them in the oven for about 20 minutes.

Mangia!

I'm sure there's a name for this, but this has become my favorite new drink to make at home:

1 part Jack Daniels
2 parts sour mix
1 part club soda
Dash of sweet lime juice
Ice

Shake and serve with a lime wedge.

After looking at Quicken and finally balancing my checkbook, I've realized spending $85 per week lunching is a little much.

From: Lori
Sent: Mon 4/25/2005 11:39 AM
To: Coworkers
Subject: Help Lori

Help Lori.

She is not allowed to go out to lunch at all this week.  She is supposed to bring her lunch and eat it or go home and eat.

You are allowed to yell at her if she tries to convince you otherwise.  You are allowed to yell at her if she tries to justify it in any way.  You are allowed to tell her she sucks if she goes out anyway.

Thanks!