Fuck Ups: Emergency

The year my friend, Y, swore off men was long. Very long. So long that it accidentally became fifteen months.

Her first fishing trip back in the big sea of dating, she found herself set up with a friend of a friend. He was Dominican, sang in a band, felt no qualms about taking her into his bedroom for two hours of making out and abandoning their friends in the living room. All attractive qualities.

But his moves pretty much ended there, and Y was left feeling... not much.

Y, however, being an intrepid young dater, feeling rejuvenated after her love-sabbatical, did not give up. One lucky Saturday, she found yet another friend of a friend to hook on her line.

He was an Air Force Reservist with shoulders she couldn't wait to dig her fingernails into. So she did, and that was that.

Left with fine memories and a little skin under her fingernails, Y went home expecting nothing more from her one night stand. By the next night, however, Y had received numerous texts of "High five!" and "Get-it, get-it girl!" from her friends. Apparently the Air Force only teaches homosexuals not to tell.

Y kept her head up high, however, and made little grins of satisfaction whenever she thought no one was looking. One night, while on duty for work, she received an emergency page. When she dialed the number and asked, "How can I help?" the Air Force Reservist confusedly said, "Who is this?"

Y's boss had (ever-so-kindly) paged her one night stand's number to her emergency work pager. By doing her job and responding to the page, she came out looking like a cling-on. I said, "Remind your boss that you only like abuses of power in the bedroom," but I'm pretty sure she didn't tell him in those exact words.

Books You Should Be Reading But Aren't: The Dead

Okay, okay, so "The Dead" isn't a book. It's a short story. In the "Dubliners." We've written about its last sentence, and it truly is a remarkable one. But the story in and of itself stands alone as an exemplary example (is that redundant?) of Joyce's more coherent work (that is, in a traditional narrative). In the last two years, I've read this story about four times, and it's been a pleasure each and every time. It's one of the few stories where a dinner scene is both necessary and executed well. The dinner table has often been a trap for writers, as conversation becomes action with seated guests. Joyce does not fail here. For starters, start simply with the foods on the table, each so fraught with symbolism, it seems overwhelming if you think about it, natural if you don't (also, a perfect example of how food can enhance a story without the story being about food). Familial and social dynamics are explored and exploited as if you were witnessing your own family's last Christmas party.

And the devasting ending, when the narrator is convinced that his wife is still in love with a (now deceased) boy from her adolescence, he looks out into the snow, seeing the great equalizer. Snow covers both the living and the dead, something that he had previously tried to protect his wife from (by buying her snow boots, etc.).

I could go on, but this is a story I refuse to summarize. Please read it. You'll be glad you did.

Cocktail of the Week: Metropolitan

Apparently, not one liquor store in my neighborhood sells angostura bitters. So my metropolitan was becoming a problem. I had brandy left over from sangria, and wanted to use it, so I went and bought sweet vermouth in order to make a metropolitan with, but they didn't have the bitters. So after hiking up and down the block, going to three separate liquor stores, a nice, short man with a round face suggested I try Campari instead. I was skeptical, but tried it anyway. The result is not terrible, but it's a little too bitter I think. I tried putting more sugar in, but it just tastes like a homemade liquor concoction. Which is what it is. It's drinkable, but not what I was going for. Also, recipes need to be more specific that a "dash" of bitters.

Anyway, here's a recipe for a metropolitan:
1 1/2 oz. of brandy
1 oz. of sweet vermouth
2 dashes of angostura bitters
1/2 a tsp. of simple syrup

Mix in cocktail shaker with ice. Shake and strain into glass. Drink.

Maybe you'll have better luck than me.

Recipe from here.

What I Did Last Night

Last night, I brought my local bar home with me.