Martini Mad Libs

You kind of look at people differently after having born witness to countless grown adults spazzing the F out once they’ve been made to wait longer than 30 seconds to order an alcoholic beverage. Some opt for a friendly approach with excessive eye contact accompanied by a pleading smile while others huff, puff and frantically beckon for my immediate attention as I tend to the ten people who were ahead of them. Imagine MY dismay when I reach a thirst-crazed patron and they call out:

I want a martini!“ Really, dawg?

 

 

 

 

 

 

That’s like saying “I want a drink!” and I think we’re all pretty clear on that by this point.

You need to be more specific.

If you want your drink quickly, ask for it the right way so that I don’t have to waste another minute of our time together with a whole bunch of questions. You like martinis? Cool! I like martinis, too. When I order mine, I want it made with Beefeater Gin, stirred and served up, garnished with a twist. Maybe you like yours prepared with vodka and olive brine, shaken and served over ice with extra ‘lives. There is no one, across the board, version. Now do you see how “I want a martini!” may pose a bit of a problem for your bartender? I’m here today to help sort all that out and arm you with a valuable tool that’ll serve as your onramp to the Drink In My Hand Highway. I give you, Martini Mad Libs!

“I’d like a ___(1)___,  __(2)____ martini, ___(3)___, ___(4)___, with ___(5)___, please.”

Just fill in the blanks by answering these 5 easy questions:

(1) What other liquids do you want in your martini? If it’s simply your base spirit and vermouth, skip this point. However, if you want no vermouth, say “dry” and if you want the bartender to add olive brine (or “juice” as everyone calls it, to my irrationally intense annoyance – that stuff ain’t juice!), say “slightly dirty”, “dirty” or “extra dirty”.

(2) The Spirit: Do you want gin or vodka? Ok, good. Now, I recommend being brand specific. Since this particular drink is basically a glass of booze with little/no mixers to cut it, I suggest you skip the well or bar brand and opt for something of a better quality. For vodka, if you don’t want to shell out for Belvedere or Ketel, Stoli is fine. (Don’t bother wasting your money on Grey Goose, which is a different conversation for a different day). When it comes to gin, they vary so much but I like Plymouth and Beefeater, neither of which is a wallet buster.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(3) Shaken or stirred? If you’re in a regs bar, you’re gonna get your martini shaken no matter what. Look around and use common sense – does this chick behind the bar look like she wants to stir a drink or is she just slingin’ em? In that case, shut up and sip your cloudy concoction; it’s not actually that big of a deal. Otherwise, most decent bartenders would say that ALL martinis should be stirred but I disagree. When it comes to gin – always stirred is best, as shaking is said to “bruise” the gin, thus changing the flavor a bit and clouding the appearance. Vodka, on the other hand, is the tofu of spirits – not something people seek out for the actual flavor. Rather, it’s more of a physical experience – sipped ice cold, gliding down your throat and then turning warm in the belly. In that case, you want your martini to be frosty and frigid, which is achieved faster with shaking. At the end of the day, it’s what you like that matters so, when an opportunity arises, try it both ways and decide for yourself.

(4) Do you want your drink served “straight up” in a martini glass or “on the rocks”over ice? OK, say that here.

(5) Garnish. In general, you have two basic options: a lemon twist or olives. Feel free to ask if the bar carries specialty items such as cocktail onions and olives stuffed with various shit like blue cheese and garlic, but don’t assume or expect they’ll have it. Asking for “extra olives” is tacky. They’re a garnish, not an appetizer. If you opt to do this anyways, throw your bartender an extra tip for not only imbibing, but feeding you as well.

A few examples:

“I’d like a dry Sapphire martini, stirred, straight up with a twist, please.”

“I’d like a dirty Ketel One martini, shaken and on the rocks with an olive - do you have blue cheese stuffed olives? Great. I’d like one of those, please.”

Take a minute and give it some thought. Practice saying it out loud a few times, like maybe in the mirror or whatever, and then head on down to your local waterin’ hole. Get ready to wow the pants off those barkeeps with your newfound ability to actually articulate what you like to drink!

In conclusion, here is a dark and blurry photo of me pouring a martini:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cheers, dudez!

 

 

Roommates

Girl, to Girl Roommate: (via note) “Hey Gorgeous Roomie! Totally not a big deal but I noticed that my almond milk isn’t in the fridge anymore – I seriously don’t mind at all! If by any chance you maybe accidentally drank it- totally fine! What’s mine is yours, girl! But, if you don’t mind, if it’s cool, could you please just replace it – whenever you have the time? If not, it’s seriously OK! I needed to buy some more anyways and Trader Joe’s is on my way home. In fact, y’know what? You’re busy, I’ll just get more almond milk myself. Feel free to help yourself to it! Hope you’re having an amazing day! Love, Me.”

Girl, to Guy Roommate: “HEY! You drank all my almond milk, asshole! You’d better replace that shit by sundown or there’ll be hell to pay!”

Girl, to Cat Roommate: “Did my little pumpkin boo get thirrrrsty? Do you want more almond milk, baby? I’ll go out and get some right now! But first, I need a cuddle from my muffin monkey boy! Awwww I love you so much, you little almond milk bandit. Who’s a bandit? Who’s a sneaky little bandit? You’re a burglar…a CAT BURGLAR! HAHAHAHA! A CAT BURGLAR!”

 

The Week In ‘Shots

Hay guyz! I’m in the midst of an intense work month, squirreling away all my acorns for a visit from one of my favorites in a few weeks. The thing that sucks about working nonstop is that it becomes extremely difficult to take care of myself, which means my pre-birthday TurboDiet is a total bust. Don’t judge me: Turning 33 is not a cute look! I just wish I was a dude so that being funny would be enough to get me laid.

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Eatin’ buddies are far more dangerous than the drinkin’ kind.

 

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WHY DOES EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MAKE ME WANT TO KILL MYSELF?

 

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…the fuck y’all know about Aaliyah? Please.

 

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Too late :-(

 

 

 

 

Dating Advice For Dudes

Tell the pretty girls they’re smart, tell the smart girls they’re pretty and tell the funny girls they’re sexy. If you manage to find one who’s all of the above, wife her up ASAP.

 

 

 

Everything You’ll Ever Need To Know About Wine

As an avid wine drinker and bartender of many years, I know slightly more than the Average Jill about that grape drank we all love so much. You don’t need to have every scrap of information relating to a bottle of wine in order to enjoy it but a few basics definitely enhance the experience. So, I’m gonna break it all down for you, brass tacks style. Feel free to use the following to get laid and impress people at parties. In fact, please do.

Wine can be divided into 4 basic types: Red, White, Pink and Bubbles. Each ranges from dry to sweet and light to heavy. No matter what your palate is like, there’s probably something for you in each of these categories. The only way to find out is to taste as much as you can. But first, let’s start talkin’ the talk.

Listening to connoisseurs discuss wine can be confounding and annoying.

“It tastes like…wind” – are you effing kidding me? 

But guys, it’s totally true that wine is a multi-sensory experience. Keep drinking it and it’ll sweep you up eventually. A sip of Burgundy could contain some nuance that transports you to your grandmother’s kitchen or a whiff of tawny Port might remind you of what your first kiss tasted like and suddenly, you’ll understand why people wax poetic about it. A lot of that whimsical-sounding terminology does actually describe concrete characteristics to help you determine which is right for you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Red

Of the four, red wine is actually the least familiar to the American palate. It’s served just slightly cooler than room temperature and tastes like nothing else in our typical repertoire of beverages. These facts have probably contributed to the urban legend that red wine is somehow classier or of higher quality than white- not true!

A few important key words and corresponding red varietals:

Jammy – Literally tastes like jam with lots of berry flavors. (Syrah, Merlot)

Tannic/Structured – Tannins are a chemical found in the skin of the grape that suck the moisture out of your mouth, producing an effect similar to that of black tea. (Cabernet, Nebbiolo )

Acidic - Bright tasting, makes your mouth pucker and water. (Chianti, Barbera)

Masculine/Feminine – Self-explanatory if you can stomach a little oenophilic sexism. Masculine wines are often woodsy and aggressive while feminine ones are soft and floral. (Bordeaux/Burgundy)

Smooth - A vague descriptor invented to confuse bartenders and servers who are trying desperately to figure out what their guest wants.

White

As I mentioned, white wine gets a bad rap from some misguided snobs. Whites are just as varied and complex are red. They’re served chilled or over ice if you’re a sassy visor-wearing Florida retiree. The vocab:

Dry – This word gets thrown around a lot when talking about wine and it’s a toughie because it means different things to different people. It basically refers to anything that doesn’t register as super sweet on your palate. (Sauvignon Blanc, Albarino)

Sweet- A bit less subjective, as many sweet wines do contain more sugar. (Riesling, Muscat)

Tropical – Notes of bananas, pineapples, mangos, etc. (California Sauvignon Blanc, Gruner Veltliner)

Stone Fruit – Notes of peaches, apricots, pears, etc. (Pinot Grigio, Viognier)

Oaky/Unoaked – This refers to the wine being aged in an oak barrel and the resulting flavor that the wood imparts. American oak makes wine taste full and like butter or butterscotch while French oak makes it kind of spicy. Wines aged in steel casks are lighter and more fruity. (Chardonnay)

Pink

Rosé is basically a white wine with a bit of color from the grapes’ red skins being briefly incorporated into the winemaking process, as opposed to fully removing them such as with whites. Many of the same descriptors apply. In Europe, it’s traditionally drank in the summer but tastes great year round. Don’t let the color fool you – rosé is often dry as a bone.

Bubbles

French Champagne, Italian Prosecco and Spanish Cava are all sparkling wines given different names based on where they’re made. If you love the bubbly, no need to save it for special occasions. You can find extremely inexpensive bottles of decent Prosecco at Trader Joe’s.

Brut- dry

Dry - sweeter than Brut. Weird, right?

Extra dry - The sweetest. I swear, they do this on purpose to confuse everybody.

How are you supposed to figure out what you like?

Most of us don’t have the means or time to attend fancypants wine tastings and blow money on expensive bottles that we may end up hating. Luckily, it’s actually pretty easy to get our hands on some free hooch. Servers and bartenders are usually happy to bring you a taste of any wine they sell by the glass. It’s not unusual for a customer to try 2-3 different ones before selecting their favorite. Make a note of anything you really love or ask the server to write it down. Also, take advantage of free wine tastings held regularly at local specialty stores or high-enders like Whole Foods. Whenever you’re in either of the aforementioned situations, ask tons of questions! True wine freaks LOVE to talk about it. Give the slightest indication that you’re interested and they’ll talk your ear off about it and load you up with more recommendations than you’ll even know what to do with. Servers, bartenders and staff in stores that have a wine selection can, at the very least tell you what’s the most (or least) popular and what their personal favorites are.

Swirl, Sniff, Sip, Sip

Some people make a big production out of tasting wine. Totally unnecessary. Just use your wrist to swirl the wine in the glass in a circular motion, put your nose in the glass, inhale deeply and then taste. Take a second sip, because the first taste just cleans all the garbage that was already in your mouth. Whadya think?

How Much to Spend

Although the consumption of wine has become nearly ubiquitous, it’s still associated with socioeconomic status and class because a) fancy people in Europe drink it and b) It can be very expensive. Good wine does NOT have to be pricy. Unless you’re mostly sure you’re gonna love it, you don’t need to spend more than $15-20 on a bottle of wine. In a restaurant, expect to pay approximately twice the retail price for a bottle – consider that the cost of ambiance and having someone else pour it which frees up your hands for under the table HJ’s and whatnot.

I Ordered the Wine, What Now?

If you order a bottle in a restaurant, this is what’s going to happen: The server will bring it over and say something like “Here is your bottle of 2008 blah blah blah” and show it to you. You’re then supposed to look at it to confirm that it’s what you ordered. Do that. Just a glance. Nod or say ok. They’ll remove the cork from the bottle and set it on the table. Don’t smell the cork, just ignore it. If the bottle has a twist-off cap, that’s okay. Caps are actually considered better by many winemakers and sommeliers and a lot of very high-quality bottles have them. When the server is pouring you a taste of a bottle, it’s to make sure the wine isn’t bad, not that you like it. You’re checking to see if the wine is corked. This happens rarely but if it tastes extremely vinegary or like mold, the bottle is bad. Most wines, especially reds, need at least a few minutes of contact with air before they start really opening up. Unless it’s clearly corked, give the server a nod or an okay and let her pour it. Give it a few minutes and taste it again.

Okay, so I lied. This doesn’t even scratch the surface. The world of wine is vast and complicated; with countless regions, varietals, styles, grape growing variations and methods, not to mention that each vineyard and winemaker has a unique story, etc., etc., etc! Becoming a true wine geek takes a ton of time and if you aren’t getting paid to do it, why bother? That’s what I’m here for, to shed at least a sliver of light on the topic and promote imbibing in a way that’s maybe just a bit more thoughtful. The real difference between drinking wine as opposed to Flirtini’s and Pickle Backs is that in it lies a really beautiful legacy of family, community, celebration and relaxation. Wine has been around almost as long as people have. It just seems to mean something bigger than merely getting sauced.

Cheers, dudez!

VerySeriousWineResearch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

P.S. Technically you should hold the glass by its stem but for us ladies who drink wine alone at home, anything goes!

 

 

The Week In ‘Shots

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(MY COUSIN POSTED THIS BARF BARF BARF BARF)

 

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God bless this woman (via Buzzfeed)

 

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I Will Never Ask A Guy Out (And Neither Should You, Probably)

When it comes to matters of the heart and genitals, I’m pretty good at giving advice. Scratch that – I’m effing amazing at it.

For some reason, people always seem willing to share the intimate details of their lives with me, particularly when it comes to sex and dating. Perhaps it’s because I’m a rapt listener and genuinely want to hear alllll about it. Also, the fact that I myself am a bit of an open book, especially when it comes to stuff that’s a lil uncomf for others to talk about, encourages open dialogue. As a result of all this stockpiled insight, I’ve become extremely adept in providing guidance for the lovelorn, lovesick, lovestruck, loveless and just plain horny people in my life.

Personally, I’m terrible at dating. I could give you a laundry list of the various ways in which I do that wrong. For some reason, I just can’t seem to follow my own logic when it’s my heart that’s on the line.

 

 

There is, however, one element of my dating steez that I’d say I’ve got just right:

I never, ever ask a guy out.

…and neither should you. Hold onto your hats, feminists. I got my reasons:

At their biological core, men are ruled by sexuality. They identify potential mates using first their eyes, while women take a more complicated approach. Although cultural and personality conflicts with this inevitably occur, men are wired to take what they want. Now, I’m not talking rape or dragging chicks around by their hair. What I mean is, when a guy wants something or someone, his instincts tell him to GO GET IT. How each man handles that is up to them, as the digital age and first world privilege have whittled many a dude down to a spineless coño, but the basic biology remains. Any woman with some intuition can generally tell if a man wants to bone down because most guys don’t even know how to conceal it. Though some of us may wishfully think otherwise or have forgotten how to read the signs, the writing’s usually on the wall – where their eyes go when they’re talking to us, which direction their body is turned and how they respond when we flirt. Speaking of flirting, that’s our end of the bargain, ladies. It goes like this: I flirt with a guy (smile a lot/touch him when I’m talking to him/give him more attention than the other boys/compliment him/fidget with my appearance in front of him/tease him a bunch/blush a lot/etc/etc/etc) and…that’s it. If he’s into me, he should ask me out. If he’s SUPER into me, he WILL ask me out. If he doesn’t than he’s too much of a puss for my taste anyways.  No way in hell I’m doing the asking, because:

If he’s not totally feelin me and I ask HIM out, he might still say yes. Why? Because I, a reasonably attractive woman, have indicated to him that I’m potentially interested in sex and his instincts will tell him YES! SEX! DO IT! which is NOT the same thing as reciprocal romantic feelings. If I genuinely like the guy, hanging out and possibly becoming intimate isn’t going to satisfy that if he isn’t coming to the table with the same level of interest.

 

 

 

I’d rather sleep with this here case of water than some half-assed, half-interested dude I had to ask out myself.
 

 

 

In this post-feminist society, women are taught to think like, well, men. We’re bred to seize opportunities, be independent, make our own way and I am first in line for all that…when it comes to things that I can control. Women, we hold the reins on how we conduct ourselves, our careers, friendships, living situations and lifestyle decisions. We can’t control the heartstrings and desires of the opposite sex. We can’t seize an opportunity that wasn’t already there. And personally, as a super Alpha female, that’s one area of my life where I don’t want to be Boss.  I don’t want to have to hunt a dude down or convince him to take interest in me. It doesn’t matter how hard I’m crushin’ or how bad I’m wantin’, a man’s gonna have to come and get me. It’s just the natural order of things.

 

 

Can We Talk About Rihanna’s Instagram Account For A Sec?

Of all social media, I think Instagram is probably my favorite. What can I say? I like spying on people. Also: Cat pics for dayz. You know what else I like? Rihanna. I can’t help it, she captivates me. Rihanna’s Instagram isn’t just something to look at; it’s an experience. Here are some things I’ve learned from Rih’s account:

1. Rihanna goes to the titty bar like….a lot. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. The only pictures on the ‘Gram that Rihanna “likes” are ones of herself. 

 

 

 

 

rihrih3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. Rihanna smokes mad weed and thinks it’s awesome.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. Rihanna’s life is better than yours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…oh, except for this bullshit:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Rihanna posts lots of pics of herself in the nude and then takes them down right away. I have no photographic evidence of this but trust me, those nipple piercings are no joke. 

 

6. Rihanna is a physically perfect human. It doesn’t seem like she ever exercises or does anything besides party and yet:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. Rihanna don’t give a fuck about bein’ a role model.

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(All photos via Instagram. Obvs.)
 

6 Simple Questions I Hate Answering

Oh, how I long for simplicity. A normal family and childhood. A place to call Home. Sweet and idyllic memories. It’s not that my life has been exciting and unorthodox in a cool or interesting way – somehow, my bio manages to be difficult to explain and yet also endlessly boring.

All these normal small-talky questions that I’m engaged with constantly at work and in my personal life are the bane of my existence. Because I have no simple answers for any of them and I’m so effing sick of trying to explain myself to a bunch of people who were only asking to be polite anyways.

1. What does your name mean?

ANSWER: I don’t fucking know! Nothing. My parents haven’t given me a straight answer, probably because they don’t remember. There was once a story about a Creedence Clearwater Revival song called “Molina” but then another time my mom said something about just finding it in a baby name book. My middle name is Kristin, also for no apparent reason. Oh, and Malina means raspberry in most Eastern Euro languages so while I never got to have one of those cool personalized mini license plates for my bike, there’s like a whole grip of raspberry flavored shit at the Polish market with my name all over it. Oh, and btw, I really don’t care that basically everybody says and spells it wrong. Because people not being able to grasp a six letter, phonetically correct word doesn’t surprise me.

malina

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What should we call this thing? I don’t know, I guess Malina sounds OK.”
 

2. What’s your ethnic background?

ANSWER: White Euro-Mutt Americans love to finger themselves over their “exotic” heritage. Because white people are so boring and we take all the best stuff from other cultures and water it down until it’s barely recognizable or just make fools of ourselves by trying to emulate something we’re not. One thing I personally covet about some other cultures is the importance placed on family. My family members all hate each other. We have no traditions whatsoever. I don’t even have a “home” to go home to on holidays. I know basically nothing about the origins of my relatives. Even my Syrian grandfather was like the most American person ever; he played Santa Claus in his town’s annual Christmas parade for fucksake. There’s some Czech. Some English, I’m guessing because of my last name. Other stuff, etc. Who cares? I’m as grossly American as can be and as much as I wish I could align myself with some exotic foreign land, it would just be a lie.

GrandmaGrandpaJoe

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grandpa Joe did eat his hamburgers on pita bread…

3. Where are you from?

ANSWER: Uggghhhhhh. I usually just claim Detroit because my heart lies there but I actually spent a significant portion of my childhood living in Massachusetts. In a very small town that I’m so bored of explaining to people. “North shore, just south of the New Hampshire border. Merrimac. No, not like Merrimack College or Merrimack, New Hampshire. It’s by NewbzzzZZZzzzzzzsorry what?” We moved to Michigan when I was 14 or 15. Like most people from the metropolitan area of a major city, I didn’t live in Detroit proper until I was an adult. In Detroit, there’s this thing where all the hipsters measure their gangsta-tude by how many years they’ve lived within city limits. It’s like the dumbest pissing contest ever. The truth is, most of us initially moved there for the cheap rent and closer access to Wayne State University and bars that we liked, not out of this undying love for the city of Detroit. The other truth is, most of us didn’t, at least at first, even contribute to the city because we still used our parents’ mailing address for tax purposes and to maintain cheaper insurance rates. I actually spent most of my 20′s living in Hamtramck, which is a tiny 2.2 square mile city tucked inside Detroit’s boundaries. It’s the weirdest place in America and I’m proud to rep it. Oh ya and I lived in Chicago for a year. And Ohio. Aaaand Florida.

4. Why the hell did you move to Florida?!

ANSWER: Because I was a mess and ashamed to have everyone I know see me that way. My mom lived in Florida and I didn’t intend to stay, only visit. But after having just walked away from the darkest 2 years of my life (i.e. living with my insane ex-boyf), laying by the pool all day, reading like a million books a week and being totally anonymous was fucking awesome. So, I stayed for 3 years and got myself back together. I mean, Florida is basically the worst place on Earth but I needed somewhere to collect myself and that ended up being it. I made some money, traveled, had a bit of fun, lost most of the boyfriend weight and found the confidence to start writing again (NOTE: If you ever see me start gaining weight in a relationship, please yank me out immediately because it means I’m miserable. If I lose weight, that means I’m happy as a clam and having tons of great sex!).

5. What brings you to LA?

ANSWER: I came here for the first time in March 2011 to hang out with some friends and meet this dude who I’d been long-distance corresponding with and crushin’ on. Los Angeles seemed really cool and I was desperate to get out of Florida. After the LA trip, I went back to Florida, quit my job and just moved. The End. I’m doing the same thing here that I would have done anywhere: tending bar and writing. I didn’t come with Big Dreams of Hollywood success, I just thought I might like living here. Oh and p.s. the aforementioned guy – who I’d ended up not exactly having a connection with – basically accused me of moving here to stalk him which is another story for another day. Actually, for never because that story makes me look really bad.

6. Oh, you’re a writer? What do you write?

ANSWER: I don’t know! Stuff? Maybe I don’t want to tell every person I meet that I have a blog where I use lots of swears, etc. MAYBE I’m having a perpetual panic attack trying to answer that question for myself. MAYBE the only thing I wrote that day was like, a semi-funny Facebook status and am therefore feeling like a lazy piece of garbage and MAYBE asking me about it makes me super uncomf. I get that people are just making conversation but this always sends me into a horrible shame-spiral, which I guess is my own fault.

I’m not saying that anybody is an asshole for wanting to know things about me. It’s just that I feel as if I have these long, dull answers for the most simple questions and have never figured out how to reply in a succinct way that satisfies everyone without being dishonest. I have this regular bar customer who’s my favorite because he always asks questions that I know how to answer, such as, “What did you eat for breakfast today?” and “How do you feel about adults who make a big deal about their own birthday?”

People seem to love to create these vast narratives for themselves, telling grand stories and making a big deal out of mostly super little deals – especially in LA. Me, I strive for lean and mean. I want to be able to sum  up the brass tacks info about my life in the fewest words possible – because mundane details about where we’ve lived or what our parents chose to name us just isn’t interesting to me. I’d much rather talk about cereal.

Damn, speaking of cereal, I’d give just about anything for a bowl of Fruity Pebbles right now.

 

Small Things

I’m sort of a High Priestess of Simple Pleasures. It probably stems from being dirt poor for much of my 20′s and therefore, needing to find joy in the less costly parts of life. Don’t get me wrong, I love fancy shit too BUT in order to keep my head above water financially and also myself from becoming a materialistic asshole, I continue to concentrate on the little thangz.

One of those items is my monthly Birchbox. Ladies, are you down with the ‘box, yet?! Basically, it’s a $10/month subscription that gets you a cute little box delivered each month containing a bunch of super high-end, deluxe beauty samples and other assorted goodies. It’s so fun! Most of the samples last the entire month so I’m constantly using new products and keeping my intense weakness for Sephora’s alluring siren song at bay.

Here’s my April Birchbox:

 

 

 

 

 

 

In it:

- Oribe Shampoo & Conditioner for Beautiful Color

- SKIN&Co Roma Body Gel w/ Olive and Sicilian Orange Extract

- StriVectin Eye Concentrate for Wrinkles

- Supergoop! Daily Correct CC Cream

- Hail Merry Chocolate Macaroons (COOKIES!!!)

- A one-year subscription to Women’s Health Magazine

All for just ten bucks!

The website: www.birchbox.com. You have to submit a request and wait a bit to join but seriously, it’s like having Santa Claus visit every month.

 

Toodles!