Americans,
your President.


claude le monde
UDvCLM
...
archives + shop le monde
guestbook
diaryland
email the claw
...
the last five entries:

i killed it Gilbert

the taco mystique

no networks, no nukes, not notcakes

my vacation in numbers

cycloparappin: CnH4n


how we do:
loupe online
universal donor
tape + solitaire
dr j.j.
tuckova
drunkenbee
my ninjas
dinosaur comics !
the 2ndhand
12% beer


+ you are #




12:18 pm | 27 February 2003 | recipe for disaster

Disaster.

Serves one.

Ingredients:

1 small spinach salad with balsamic dressing and freshly ground black pepper (for dinner; eat before beginning preparations for disaster)
1/3 bag Tostitos White Corn Tortilla Chips with Hint of Lime
4 cups coffee
20 oz. bottled water
1 serving CoCo Wheats with 2 tbsp sugar and 1/2 cup soy milk
2 large glasses vodka-and-diet-7UP (use a 20oz glass, at least 50% vodka)
two sticks of Big Red brand Chewing Gum
3 $2 vodka martinis (up, wet, dirty)
one dozen olives
one hundred thousand cigarettes (to be smoked throughout entire process)

Directions:
First, preheat oven to "embarrassment."

1. Watch Zoolander while mindlessly eating many, many chips. Feel guilty for eating so many chips. Also, top layer of tongue has now been scraped/burned off by overly assertive, bright-green chemical lime flecks.

2. Realize you are violently cranky and tired. Make and drink pot of coffee to fortify yourself.

3. Feel sick from coffee; also have sweet tooth. Make and eat Co-Co Wheats.

4. Now just feel gross.

5. Drink large amount of water hoping to flush bilge out of system.

6. Get depressed. Take nap on couch.

7. Wake up. Put on Interpol. Make large glass of vodka-and-diet-7UP. Drink. Repeat.

8. Have Porkchop come over while you get ready to go out. Call boys. Realize you'd rather drink $2 martinis than stand around looking indie-rock-bored in dirty punk rock club.

9. Pick up boys. Go to slightly yuppie Northside bar.

10. Meet. Greet. Have first martini.

11. Pilfer olives from other peoples' glasses. Be charming. Hug people a lot. Your friends will, tomorrow, say you were "being really cute." Until.

12. Have second martini. Stagger once. When friend asks if you are okay, say brightly "Ha ha! Yes, i'm fine! Quite all right. I just reeled, briefly." Fail to consider the fact that saying things like "I just reeled, briefly" means you are already wasted.

13. Somewhere in there drink another martini. Someone will also give you a piece of cheesecake. Sweet! Pound it down.

Steps 10-12 should take approximately three hours. By now, you are ready to finish your disaster. These steps are crucial, but delicate. Proceed exactly as instructed.

14. Realize dimly that you are totally stumbling like an entire tribe of drunk, drunk Injuns (I am part Native American so it is okay that i say this. You may wish to substitute your own ethnic slur). Someone will note that your eyes are bloodshot. Why thank you, sir. (This man may also be an idiot, as a scant ten minutes later he will point to you, giggle, and say "Your ears are small.")

15. Go to bathroom. Vomit. Go back to bar. Act like everything is fine-just-fine. Drink water. Try to keep eyeballs from rolling like a spooked nag's might. Smile crookedly. Think arcanely. Sway nauseatedly.

16. Repeat.

17. Repeat. I'd like to note that the combination of spinach salad, Tostitos White Corn Tortilla Chips with Hint of Lime, coffee, chocolate cereal, vodka, olives, cheesecake, and cigarettes is, when vomited, possibly the worst thing ever, of all time, and that you will really want to die right about now. But no. You will live, thinking to yourself "Damnit, why does my thrill-seeking, easily-bored nature require that i swing back and forth between gustatory extremes at all times? All are punish�d!"

18. Repeat. Here a nice girl you barely know will come in to retrieve you, since by all accounts you have been gone for a half-hour. She should say something along the lines of "Are you okay? oh, come here. Yeah, let's just wipe that off your shirt." Groan in dismay.

19. Let the nice girl take you back out. Let your nice friend Mr. Fox drive your car (you never, ever let anyone drive your car). On the way home, insist upon listening to "In the Ghetto" repeatedly, singing all loud. Fuck, you are so drunk.

20. Go to the boys' house. Look really pathetic and awful. Feel like an idiot for being out of control, since you are generally the one taking care of the drunks, driving, mopping, swabbing, consoling. Now you can do none of those things.

21. Lie on couch with head on T.'s lap. Understand that he is taking your boots off and giving you a pillow and snuggling up against you, saying "it's okay to let someone else take care of you once in a while." Realise he is right. Feel safe, finally, and sort of okay after all. Go to sleep. clm.


prev... (home) ...next

unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04.
all rights, including those of reproduction, reserved.