e_juliana: (drinking skeleton)
EaterSF is running a contest for the douchiest bar in SF. I've picked MatrixFillmore, which is everything wrong with the Marina in one jam-packed collar-popped space. The nomination thread is hysterical.


What are you doing for Repeal Day? (Friday, December 5.)

The Chronicle has a small list of events - my possibilities are:

- Bourbon & Branch's Prohibition-era libations, such as the Martinez and St. Germain Cocktail.

- Elixir is throwing a Prohibition-themed party and serving a 1933 cocktail menu. Admission $10; RSVP to events@elixirsf.com.

- [livejournal.com profile] hecubot might be interested in this: Forbidden Island will pay tribute to Cuba, the drinking destination of choice during Prohibition, with cocktails like the El Presidente, Mary Pickford and daiquiris.

- My rye fixation might drive me to Nopa, where they will uncork its house single-barrel Redhead Rye.

So many choices!
e_juliana: (whiskey bottle)
Cool article in 7x7 (SF mag) - Diary Of A Mixologist. Mixology is certainly the Hot Thing in the world of drinking right now, and San Francisco likes to fancy itself on the cutting edge. (This is also the kind of bartending that Jeffrey Morgenthaler up in Eugene does. His East Of Eden is a triumph of gin.)

The article's interesting and fun, but my favorite are the two sidebars. First, how to behave in a bar:
Get The Most Out Of Your Bartender

DO have your entire order ready, for yourself and your friends. No bartender has the time to meet each member of your posse. And when we finish making your margarita, please don't say, "Oh, and two more of those."
DON'T whine, "My drink's too sweet." Politely say that you like it a little more tart, and we'll be happy to fix it for you.
DO be patient.
DON'T ask to have your drink made extra strong. Would you ask a chef to put an extra steak on your plate for no charge?
DO have your money or credit card ready. The moment to dig through your purse is not when there are 50 people behind you.
DON'T whistle or wave to get the bartender's attention. It just makes it easier for us to identify whom to serve last.
DO tip well. A buck is fine on a beer or two, but not for two or more labor-intensive cocktails.
DON'T assume Corona, Red Bull or Malibu is available. Or that the bartender should be willing to make some nasty, obscure shot you once had in Cabo.
DO refrain from calling out our names if we haven't introduced ourselves first. It's creepy.
DO smile. And we'll probably smile back.


Second - what do you like to drink? (And yeah, #2's pretty accurate.)

What Your Drink Says About You

1. Shot of Patrón. You think you know, but you have no idea.
2. Pacifico and a shot of anything. Fine-dining restaurant employee.
3. Sommelier Sidecar. Your knowledge of wine is not as good as you think it is.
4. Vodka Soda. Marina chick (even if you're a guy).
5. Jack and Diet. Ex–frat boy who spends too much time at the gym.
6. Dark and Stormy. Seasoned drinker who's "on the wagon."
7. Milk of Millennia. You're likely from L.A.
8. Mojito. European tourist who will later ask whether we know of a good disco in the area.
9. Vodka Red Bull. Show us your ID.
10. Pisco Sour. Young woman from a South American country, or a dyed-in-the-wool cocktail geek.



Randomly, Bars, cheap sex, and boozy anthropology. (I found this while trying to find something that describes the soulless yuppiedom of the Marina.)

edit: The above article really does read like "I read something like this in a fic once."
e_juliana: (whiskey bottle)
Every year, the average American adult drinks the equivalent of 38 six-packs of beer, a dozen bottles of wine and two quarts of distilled spirits like gin, rum, single malt Scotch, or vodka that aspires to single malt status through the addition of flavors normally associated with yogurt or bubble bath.


Full text of article under the cut, emphases mine )

Relatedly, Jezebel has an article on the Today Show segment where they discuss "drunkorexia". IT'S CALLED "LIQUID LUNCH", BITCHES.

Mmmm, beer. Or whiskey. No, beer for this early in the morning. Yes.
e_juliana: (fernet)
From MediaPost:

1882, a new brand of Italian alcoholic drink Fernet, launched a quirky TV campaign this summer in Córdoba, Argentina, a province where residents are obsessed with drinking Fernet and only Fernet. Rather than launch a campaign that positions 1882 as a Fernet brand, twelve nonsensical TV spots were created. A man with a big head, little face and no body is taunted by the unattainable 1882. Then there's a bird with a moustache swimming in Fernet and singing about it. A group of pigeons go crazy for a loaf of French bread in another ad. My two favorite ads involve a boy's choir and some fancy yo-yo work. Click here and here to watch the ads.
e_juliana: (carson naked)
Otherwise my entire life would be a sham!!!

You Are a Star

For you, the holidays are all about dressing up and indulging in fancy cocktails!



Now I want a Champagne cocktail from Ike's. Mmmmm, Ike's.

LEGENDARY.

May. 22nd, 2006 10:12 am
e_juliana: (fernet)
Dude, I don't even know where to start. So I'll just post a short note to reassure y'all that [livejournal.com profile] smonsterbite and [livejournal.com profile] luluminion are okay, much fun was had, I love my Buffistas (and didn't get enough time with them!), and I'm going to have to stay sober for a couple of weeks just to give my liver a rest.

Honestly, I can be mellow. I swear.

Whoo.
e_juliana: (tease)
I plan to drink some fine Irish usquebaugh, or at least the modern equivalent imported to America these days, in celebration of that portion of my heritage. I will then wish all of my bartender friends luck,. and then there shall be retreating up to my apartment to watch the festivities (read: Amateur Night) from a safe remove.

Perhaps I should bake cookies for the bartenders as compensation for having to put up with the amateurs. Hmmm.


In other news, watched Madagascar with Ken last night (N was supposed to join us, but she stayed too long at the strip club). It's a cute movie, but I really only enjoyed the penguins and the lemurs. I'm kind of sad that I left both of the Madagascar penguins in MN now. Gods, they were hilarious. "Hoover Dam! We're still in New York! Abort! Dive! Dive! Dive!" And the slapping around of the captain. So. Cute. (And Psychotic, Which Is Why I Love Them)
e_juliana: (drinking skeleton)
1) I love the Internets.

2) I love etymology.

3) I love booze.

Therefore, I present to you this most pleasing entry from answers.com:

whis·key also whis·ky (hwĭs'kē, wĭs'-)
n., pl. -keys also whis·kies.
An alcoholic liquor distilled from grain, such as corn, rye, or barley, and containing approximately 40 to 50 percent ethyl alcohol by volume.
A drink of such liquor.
[Shortening and alteration of USQUEBAUGH.]

WORD HISTORY Many connoisseurs of fine whiskey wouldn't dream of contaminating their libations with water, but they really can't avoid it. Not only is water used in distilling whiskey, but the words whiskey and water share a common Indo-European root, *wed–, “water, wet.” This root could appear in several guises, as *wed–, *wod–, or *ud–. Water is a native English word that goes back by way of prehistoric Common Germanic *watar to the Indo-European suffixed form *wod-ōr, with an o. Whiskey is a shortened form of usquebaugh, which English borrowed from Irish Gaelic uisce beatha and Scottish Gaelic uisge beatha. This compound descends from Old Irish uisce, “water,” and bethad, “of life,” and meaning literally “water of life.” (It thus meant the same thing as the name of another drink, aquavit, which comes from Latin aqua vītae, “water of life.”) Uisce comes from the Indo-European suffixed form *ud-skio–. Finally, the name of another alcoholic drink, vodka, comes into English from Russian, where it means literally “little water,” as it is a diminutive of voda, “water”—a euphemism if ever there was one. Voda comes from the same Indo-European form as English water, but is differently suffixed: *wod-ā. Whiskey, water, and vodka—etymology can mix a potent cocktail.


Indeed.

(Also, dumb me, I forgot to add that I love Gaelic. Well, to listen to it. Can't speak it, obviously...)
e_juliana: (impulse)
You're walking in to work the next day and you wonder what the hell you said. Not because you can't remember what you said, but because you don't know what in blazes got in to you to say those things. You can remember every damned word, and you're laughing at yourself for saying them. You're also a little embarrassed, because what the hell were you thinking?

Good gods. I should just gag myself some nights.

Hilarious.
e_juliana: (drinking skeleton)
December 14, 2005
Wines of The Times

Champagne: How Low Can You Go?
Mmmm, bubbly. )

Not that I'll be able to afford such bottles for a while, but it will be nice to have a guide when I can.
e_juliana: (mystery)
Is it me, or have Merlots gotten sweeter as their popularity has peaked and started to decline? I remember a $15 Merlot as being the perfect accompaniment to dark, bittersweet chocolate, and now they taste like they're one step shy of sangria (well, maybe not that bad, but certainly not good either).

Am I insane? Did anyone else notice this?




(I have commentary about the weekend as well, but the mysteries of booze are much more important.)

Wow.

Jun. 1st, 2004 11:10 am
e_juliana: (stare)
You'd think I'd come off of a holiday weekend feeling rested and refreshed, but that was not to be. Too much drinking, I suspect.

Friday, we had the show and then went over to [livejournal.com profile] redwright's to party. One of my castmates did impressions that had me screaming with laughter. He was just riffing on everyone and everything. Good times.

Saturday, I had to clean (through a hangover, oops), because people were coming over to our place after the show. Spent way too much money on food and booze (absinthe was consumed), but it was a very good time. I love hosting.

Sunday, I just slept and read. The Book Of Ruth was the book of choice for the day, and it was not a good choice. I was profoundly unhappy with the plot and the prose. Meh. Then, Picasso yet again, and then we all trooped over to Market for karaoke. I think I'm getting burned out again. Or maybe I'm just burning out on drinking. It's not a coincidence that I'm in my best shape when I'm not drinking, and I'm getting tired of not being in my best shape. It's hard, though, when all of my friends are hard drinkers.

Monday, more sleep. And a run. But mostly sleep. And then a show. And then watching the Wolves lose. And then sleep. Which wasn't very good, since neither of us could get to sleep. Feh.


I think Z & I need a financial advisor. Correction - not think, know. Any recs for advisors that will not focus on stocks and whatnot, but will instead help us with reasonable expenditures and budgeting and sticking to said budget? I'm a whiz at budgeting, but I can't seem to make it stick. Dumb me.

Guh-ronk.

Mar. 8th, 2004 12:36 pm
e_juliana: (stare)
So I took Friday off to help me catch up on my sleep and generally recover from this horrific mood I've been in for the last few months. Good idea, right? Not when I decide to drink like a fish (I'm not the only one who had this idea - check out [livejournal.com profile] stephl's description of her weekend).

Friday, we slept in, lolled about, and then went to lunch. I LOVE having the day off and hanging out in a bar for lunch. It always feels vaguely seedy and fun. Came home, worked out, and then Z & I went to the opening of "Driving Miss Daisy" at the Showboat. It went fine, but Z had had to correct a few bad habits that had formed during the St. Cloud run. The audience was smallish, but they seemed to like it. We were convinced that the Artistic Director of the Guthrie was in attendance until we actually heard the man speak. No Irish accent - no Joe Dowling. Hmmph.

Prior to the show, we went to dinner at the only restaurant near the Boat. It was, to say the least, odd. The place tries to be about 5 different things at once - a neighborhood bar, a swanky club-style restaurant, a sports bar, a family restaurant, and a party area. There is a pull tab booth next to the mahogany-inlaid bar. I've decided that every place I eat in St. Paul that is not located in the immediate downtown area will have a surreal experience or two for me. Part of that has to do with the fact that St. Paul is a small town in its heart. I don't know what the other part is.

So we drank before the show, and then during the show, and then we decided that it would be wise to go to the Market after the show for a few drinks. Oooof.

Saturday, Zach had to go to work, so I got up, drove him in, and then came home and worked out and cleaned for the party that I hosted that night. Baked bread, made pico de gallo, usual things.

The party was a lot of fun, even though there was a moment where I wished I wasn't hosting so I could go home. But people enjoyed themselves, ate up all the food, and it ended with my friend David and I staying up until 4 a.m. discussing politics, which is the usual cap to my parties. All well and good. What was not good was my falling asleep on the couch when David left. I didn't even change out of my dress. Zach had to come get me at 8 when he woke up. Le oops.

Sunday, I finally returned Carl's Buffy DVDs to him, and he gave me a ride to the Market so I could get Z's truck. I went to the airport to meet an Anarach friend of mine during his layover, and we ate at the Mall of America. Dropped the friend off, realized I had forgotten my purse, and went back to the MOA to fetch it. While I was there, I decided to wander around a bit and lo and behold, I found a Coat. A full-length black leather coat on sale for $135 down from $400. I lurve it. I wasn't planning to spend that much, but I lurve it. It's heavy, and as it slid home on my shoulders I thought, "Yep. This is the one." So, got the coat, picked Zach up, we went over to Sally's for dinner. Had an incredibly tasty dinner, Zach dropped me off at home, I ran lines for a bit and then went to sleep.

Woke up today, still stiff and sore, and walked in to work because the bus drivers are still on strike. It's been snowing on and off for the past 2 hours or so. I'm not looking forward to the walk home.

I cannot go out at all this week. Cannot. Remind me of that, will you?

Karaoke.

Jan. 22nd, 2004 02:22 am
e_juliana: (drink)
Whuf. Interesting, interesting night. Yes.

Sang 3 songs - "Jack and Diane", "These Boots Were Made For Walking" (request), and "I Want Your Sex". I was iffy on singing the last one, because there were conventioneers.

Ah, conventioneers. The bar is very close to the convention center, so conventioneers will occasionally stumble our way. I'm normally grateful for the business, but... Well, it's much like when a small town is adacent to a military base (like Fairbanks). The GI's are miles and miles away from home, having to at least fake like they are enjoying themselves, and, as a rule, are on the make. Conventioneers, not being 18 nor having a freshly-shaved head, are not quite as bad, but I think you get my point. When they walk in, they get watched. Especially when the group is entirely male. Most of the time, it's not an issue. Tonight, it wasn't really an issue. Some were pigs, but most respected the space.

However, there was still that heightened watchfulness, which, in some of my friends, translates into a readiness to fight. Why? Because they're idiots. Anyway. This time, it was my friend DP. DP is a bartender-cum-actor/tech director, and he has had to 86 many a person from his bar, sometimes needing to do so multiple times for one person. The brother of one such person walked in with 15 minutes to go, and plopped his ass down at our table. He holds a grudge against DP. Fair enough. However, it's our table and has been for over 4 years. We don't know him, we didn't invite him. DP was making noises about fighting, and Idiot Dude (ID) was baiting him. Finally, since DP, Z and I were sharing a cab home, I plopped down next to ID and asked him why he was at our table and why he was bothering my friend.

Now, you have to understand. I don't do that. I am non-confrontational in the extreme. But I've been working on standing up for myself and my friends, so I decided to try to avert the mayhem. DP, not helping, told ID that he was in real trouble now that I was in the mix. ID asked why he should be scared now that a woman was talking to him. This was followed by a leaning back by everyone who was watching, waiting for the explosion. I told ID that he needed to go, that this was our table, that he was bothering us. He replied that he was going to sue me, that this was America and he knew his rights (oy. [livejournal.com profile] theferret has something to say about that attitude, but I can't find the post), that he couldn't be removed from the table. I told him that it was a privately-owned establishment, and they reserve the right to kick out or move whomever they wish. He demanded to see the papers declaring that it was a private establishement. After a few rounds like this, and after our friend M got into it as well, I caught the barback/bouncer's eye and jerked my head toward ID, asking him to kick ID out. He tried, and ID threatened to sue his ass for a breach of Constitutional rights.

Finally, ID left, calling DP out the entire way. DP was more than ready to follow him out, but M and I managed to persuade him that jail time would be non-conducive to him getting to rehearsal. Three was much patting of the back and manly thumping, as well as compliments on how I handled ID. The cab came, and we left.

There's not many nights like this. I wouldn't go if there were. But sociologically? It's fascinating. And personally? I'm kind of proud of myself. I wish I had had the wit to cut this drunkass down so he would have left on his own. but that's something I doubt I'll ever have. What I do have now is the knowledge that I can tell people to stop bothering my friends and take a complaint to management if they want to or if I need to. A little bit of faith in myself. That's pretty cool.

Man. It's past 2 a.m. I will be an incoherent wreck tomrrow. Oy.
e_juliana: (happiness)
Ran 4+ miles last night. Not long, true, but fast.

Unfortunately, I had napped before running, so I was late, so I didn't eat between getting home from my run and going to the Guthrie to see Night Of The Iguana. Not a good idea. Even worse? Having a few drinks after the show. I do not feel well today. But I did have fun.

Seeing Zach on the Guthrie stage was pretty damn cool. I was/am very proud of him. Even if his costume consists of leopard-print briefs and sandals. And that's it. Hee! Sally and I sat together, and we hung out with Linda Sue and Tim before and after the show. Actually, after the show, most of the actors hang out at the Guthrie bar - "The Dram". It used to be in the backstage/offices area, and was dark and moody and just generally appropriate for a bunch of old soaks. Now it's in the lobby and is echo-y and not bar-like at all. Sigh. But hanging out with the NY actors was quite enjoyable. I think some of them might come down to the Market tonight.


11 days until the marathon. Yes.

I have no idea how to post a picture here from my hard drive. I am pathetic. Anyway, I was going to show everyone my next tat, the one I'm going to get for myself when I finish the marathon. I have three right now, all going up my spine. They represent characteristics that I either need to be reminded of or that I need to work toward embracing. From bottom to top, it's the Chinese symbol for the Year of the Rabbit, reminding me of my roots and the luck I have in my life. Then comes the kanji for "chaos", and then the kanji for "happiness" (the icon I used for this post). The next one is the kanji for "courage", which has the added bonus of slightly looking like someone running.

I love my tattoos. I want more. I want to finish this line of desireables (all the way to the neck, baybee), and then start getting more. Moremoremore. Body modification is addicting.


Anyway. I'm babbling, and not about very interesting things. Must nap this afternoon. As well as slay the Lutherans that are breeding in my sink and lift weights. Very exciting.

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