To Do: drink.

We have a big house. It’s going to hurt when it falls down on us. There are carpenter ants underneath it and in the walls, munching and munching away to make a space to lay eggs. I can’t remember the names of them, I always think they are Trelawney Ants. 

They are fuckers, is what they are. They were eating a wall at the front of the house, then we had them gassed. I found them in our bedroom, which led to finding a leaking pipe in our bathroom and some horrendous damage, oh goody! With that gone, that should have dried up the ants interest in the house, but today I found them on my bedside, in my wardrobe and my clothes. It’s all a bit overwhelming, not to mention annoying AF. But that’s the joys of homeownership, I suppose. 

Note to self: next time we contemplate buying a house, cloose an empty plot of land and build it ourselves. When we are ready to pour the foundation, also pour every last cent into the wet cement and stop right there. It would be less stressful, I think.

We will need to replace the damaged wood inside the walls, and floors, too, if they are defying gravity, and I wouldn’t put it past them. 

I tried to vacuum the c****s out of my wardrobe, and succeeded for a few minutes, until I saw them all over my clothes and fucking wept – just like Jesus, except not as pious, and then geared up the vacuum but the bag was full, and the GD thing won’t work without a bag and there are no bags left. I hate my life.


A Hemingway Champagne

A Hemingway, Hemingway Champagne or Death In The Afternoon is a cocktail comprised of Absinthe, Champagne and high expectations.

Absinthe became legal in the US about a decade ago and since I’m a big girl now, and probably read an article about it reminding me of both of those facts, I’ve had it on my “to do list” for a little while. Last night was the night.

The place I visited doesn’t do Absinthe cocktails so I detailed to the bartender the recipe of my choice and voila!  I’d heard that it had a distinctive flavor, I hadn’t heard that it was licorice, which I despise. What the hell was Hemingway thinking??

Hemingway was a novelist and a journo, among other things, according to my old and reliable friend Wiki: “never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee.” Right on, Frankenstein. (Do ya like what I did there, @dfa1979?)

Anyhoo, Hemingway had a shit ton of unfortunate and unfortunately common experiences for the time, and married four times, to boot. He also had taste in his asshole because Absinthe is more than just an acquired taste. Blech. I had hoped and expected some sort of “off with the fairies” experience but besides a little bit of head-swim, nothing, nada. Perhaps I had too little – but I couldn’t have had any more because it was awful and I almost retched into my tiny, adorable, traditional champagne glass once or twice. Again, blech.

I’m going to try and find some other celeb or pseudo-celeb to model my Absinthe over and hope for better luck next time.

Viz a Viz

Boozehound or parent of young children? Professional juice head or survivor of the trenches of parenthood? We may never know.
Actually, I have to presume that a professional would have hidden the evidence of their adventures a little better than this…


Ignore the mess, damn it






So that's where the coconut oil is



This one is actually just an empty box, but we got it when we renewed our vows in Scotland and the vintage is from our first wedding

Also, I am scheduling  interviews for a housekeeping internship. Spread the word.