Adult Sippy Cups

I'm veering off my normal Blue Moon/what-do-you-have-on-tap routine and trying out new cocktails.  I love crazy flavor combos, (kinda like my chicken salad...), like the blueberry basil martini at Scholar's.  Yum. 

So I was scanning the menu last night at Stoddard's Fine Food & Ale, which has never let me down on exciting drinks, looking for something new, when what to my wondering eye should I appear:

A drink of Jasper's Secret Mix and Sailor Jerry?  Anything with sailors is a-okay in my book. 

Then, it was presented like this:

You know it's a good night when your first drink comes in a teddy bear holding a baby teddy bear mug.

Now excuse me while I go google Sailor Jerry and find some bacon.

Food Trucks

Why are they so delicious?

Chicken kebobs in Downtown Crossing are without fail far more delicious than chicken kebobs from a stationary restaurant.  Please discuss.

And then drool and feel free to arrange dates with me that involve twitter stalking any of these places:  http://www.boston.com/lifestyle/food/gallery/foodtrucks/

Getting Mowwwwied

I had the distinct honor of being consulted in the purchase of an engagement ring - and holy-i-know-nothing-about-rocks, Batman. 

So, they all looked pretty, but I still don't know what a princess cut is, and honestly, colors G-L looked like white/clear to me.  The M color which looked like yellow mud looks like those stupid canary diamonds I'm seeing on celebs these days.  Who would want a yellow diamond?  Woof. 

But more importantly, Mr. Groom had spent the last year researching, and the jeweler greeted him by name as we walked in.

Typical for this guy - and it shows how much thought and time and blood and sweat he put into picking the PERFECT ring, and that's what matters.  Just that he cares and put in effort.

But since I know nothing about rocks... (I skipped rocks for jocks and took DINOSAURS) I'll probably be happy with anything, ring-wise, and future Mr. KK can save his year of stress and hemming and hawing and go with something normal looking, because I'm pretty easy to please.  What I do know about, and what I can judge, is the HOW in this scenario.  Because, if I'm spending my life with you, I want a good engagement story. 

Momma and Poppa don't really have one... I think she cared more about the rock, so they went ring shopping together so that she got what she wanted.  I mean, you're wearing something til death do you part, I get wanting to like it.  But I want a big, makes-me-cry, sweet show of emotion that makes me feel like I'm spending my life with someone who really wants to make me happy and surprise me, and not like... buy me off?  I'd rather measure love in gestures than in dinero (and yes, maybe I'd feel differently if I had a better trained eye for rocks?)

SO, any good engagement stories?  Mr. Groom's initial theory involves a honda civic and a confetti cannon, which I need to derail before he brings in Bozo and a bearded lady.  (I'm not available that weekend anyway, haaaaaaaaa).  Help me help him!

OH, and, the other chick on the ring viewing tour: 1.) Dropped the diamond - not the one that was ultimately purchased - and freaked.   2.)  Got a blatant butt stare from the jeweler.  No better way to show that you're single than by going to buy a diamond with a guy friend and knowing nothing about diamonds.  Maybe this should be my new move?

Free Slurpee Day

Monday's lookin up...

http://www.boston.com/Boston/businessupdates/2011/07/eleven-toasts-birthday-with-free-slurpees/5QKZ1cGns8Hcu07cmU7m4L/index.html?p1=Upbox_links

Also - complete side note - I don't know much about seasonings, but I hate bland food and I like crazy flavor combinations.  And other than my years of trial and error (involving more of the latter), I made a cranberry walnut chicken salad last night, and google told me to add dill.  I did it, against my better judgment, expecting it to make the whole batch taste like a weird pickle, but lo and behold - it was delicious. 

My instincts = no good.

Conflicted

I think I just figured out why I'm so into Pitbull.

I don't like most things about him.  He's bald and seems skeezy.  He looks like a completely different person when he takes his aviators off.  He wears suits like a straight Neil Patrick Harris.  This is not sounding like a list of things that "work".

But somehow it's all offset with his incredibly attractive attitude.  He's like a hispanic James Bond, and this is life lesson #5300 that attitude is everything.

And Ne-Yo, you look like Steve Urkel.

Terrible news

Crazy Grammie Charlotte was a Reed, and because I know zero about genealogy, I looked up our family names on the source for all information that is undeniably true, and I'm distraught:

"Reed" is a variant of the surname "Read", which is commonly believed to be a nickname-derived surname referring to a person's complexion or hair being ruddy or red.

I COME FROM A FAMILY NAMED FOR BEING GINGERS.  Apparently they've been weeded out by natural selectivity, because I don't have any ginger relatives that I know of.... but still.  I feel like I found out I was French.  To quote Ms. Handler:  "Along with the 97 percent of women who can see, I have never been a fan of redheaded men."  I'm concerned for my gene pool.  What if I pass it on to a son?  There's gingervitis in my blood!?  Somebody hold me.*

*Kidddddddddddddddddddding.  No gingers or French folk were harmed in the making of this blog post, but seriously Beth, you and your gingophilia stay away from my unborn sons.

Blog domination

At another work going away party (a weekly occurrence) at the new bar down the street from work/school, (which has been open for less than 2 months but has a new monopoly on my discretionary booze spending), minding my own business, when I see a guy I've seen a million times before.  In fact, I had just read how he met his wife that day at work.  So, I stared at this poor guy until I realized again that I'm creeping on a blog person that I have not met, but I know wayyyy too much about.

So, because Laura didn't pepper spray me, I decided to go say hi to Ali, who promptly gave me a big hug and was pumped that I came over to say hi instead of emailing her after the fact.  (I think that would make me more of a stalker, right?  Isn't it more creepy to know that someone was watching you and didn't say hi?)  Not much else to report other than she was so sweet and exactly as she comes across in her blog, and I'm only minorly concerned that my scarf is askew and I'm smiling so big that my cheeks squeeze my eyes shut in the pic we took - also, welcome to every picture I ever take.  Small price to pay for making a new blog friend and being some kind of stalker socialite.

 I kinda love the blogosphere.