chaosvizier

To lead into today's movie review, I have to throw in some background on what happened before that.

Basically, the New York Food Festival was this weekend, and my wonderful partner in crime HG got us tickets to go. This is because I love food, and where better to satisfy my gluttonous cravings than at a festival dedicated in its entirety to tasty morsels?

Two important facts to digest: first, make no mistake, there is a substantial amount of food involved at this event. So much so that even at my most omnivorous I have a hard time sampling every last tidbit that is offered. This does not stop me from trying, nor does it stop me from thinking "if I puke now, I'll have more room for the rest of the festival..." more than once. I do not take that drastic step, mostly because I want to see what incredible farts my gastrointestinal system will produce when the hodgepodge of comestibles finally blend within my belly.

Secondly, "Food Festival" is a gross misnomer. This really should be the "New York Alcohol Festival, With Some Food Thrown In To Keep You Moderately Sober". As we waited in line for our round, a large number of attendees were leaving in what could be described as not merely a state, but rather an entire country, of inebriation. And I am convinced that a good two-thirds of the display tables in the festival were devoted to wines and spirits. This also says something, if the remaining one-third of the tables were enough to fill my belly. Make no mistake; the festival is huge. And drinking most certainly did occur.

So, for the better part of three hours, HG and I explored every inch of the festival, tasting samples, picking up recipes, and drinking. This year we were smart and made sure to keep hydrated during the festival; last year we came out of there utterly tanked and completely wiped out. This year our stamina was of higher fare, and we decided to go to a movie to relax and recover. What better movie to choose after such a delicious outing, you might ask?

Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs

( Could I get more hungry after the afternoon's consumption? Amazingly, yes. )

Today is Sunday.

Today I am at work. I have been here since 10 am. It is now 7:37 pm.

Yesterday, which was Saturday, I was ato wrok from noon to 10:00 pm.

However, all is not horror. Two thrings have made this day better.

First off, we've been drinking wine since about 5 pm. Mmm, Yellowtail. Despite my general disinterest in red wines, after a hard Sunday's worth of work, sure, even wine feels pretty damn good.

Second off, despite the dedious drudgery of my work day, I was amused by fizrep's recounting of his considerably more bizarro workday.

Hell, I'll add three and four here.

Thirdly, this guy's last name is Dikheel. Huh huh, dick heel, huh huh.

Fourthy, my spelling is execrable today. Except that I can spell execrable.

As I mentioned yesterday, this past weekend there was a wedding.

( Now I'll tell the tale of the actual wedding. )

Last Friday we were accosted by ninjas.

( Segue into obvious story here. )

once again, alcohol takes command o the sensesa and I write a meesssage for you all in somewhatat less that completel sobrietey. Woot.

For bmy birthday I did nothing exceptional. but today I made up for it by partying down like no tomorrworow. Thank you to my roomonatates who made this party possible. mmmm, party.

lots of people werew here. some brought igggifts. some brought alsocohol. all wa sgood.. Lauried daanced around in her undergarments. that was funnky. others came right now they;r dotormenting sleeping people because its funny. ahehee. lots of fucked up pictures have been takedn tonight. it's all bad. good thing i dont know how to imagelink or stuff becaues that would make some funny pics online. and movies dottoto too. but tha's up to deinemuse to link up. I can't hyperlink right now. too complex

much was drunk. much happened. can't rclall it all right now. but we have quotes o the night, from so far as now. now is 3:30 am. earlier was earlier. so that;s before now.

"Anna, who;s the crack whore who blew hersel up?" - Se Sue

"I'm a bejeweeled mohterfucker." - Stacy

"Is that all vodka?
"Well, I suppose some of the ice melted." - Tym/Hans

"Look, I blew a Smurf!" - Stacy

"This vacuum cleaner will satisfy me. " - Stacy

I'm sure more wuqutoes were made, and will be made. Hoh wyeah, Laurie was raped by montecore. hes a big stuffed tiger.

orgy

ass intyms face. he like that a lot. drinking. everythign's sideways.

see you alll altera later.

HGG

So this weekend, the Hive had its traditional Mardi Gras party. "Traditional" might not be the most appropriate word, since our first Mardi Gras party was last year, but since we're displaying foresight and anticipating future similarly-themed parties, we can predict the onset of tradition. We're clever like that.

( Friday: Foreshadowings of Ominous Portent )

( Saturday: Chili of Impressive Magnitude )

( Saturday: Evening of Unmentionable Activity )

( Sunday: Morning of Silent Trauma )

So, this weekend we had a party. Well, someone else had a party, which we (several folks including marasca, llasram, chrysoberyl, and fizrep) attended. Something like that. In any event, as occasionally (read: always) happens at our parties, there was some (read: lots of) drinking involved. Most of which involved lizature's favorite substance, Hard Liquor.

( Hard Liquor Is Fun. Making Drinks Is Fun. Partying With Us Is Fun. 'Nuff Said. )


( Forget the lame story. Here's drink recipes! )

You would be too drunk to even realize who you are.
You would think it's funny and laugh at almost
everything that's said to you or done. Your
friends may find it funny and pull a prank on
you like maybe place a tattoo that says
"loser" on the back of your neck.
You're the type of person who's wild and crazy
and likes to have, what you call, a good time.
Have fun, but be careful though.


If You Were to Get Drunk, What Kind of Drunk Would You Be?
brought to you by Quizilla

I like to write. No, scratch that. I love to write. Writing is fun. This is not to say that I'm good at it, as this LJ comment aptly demonstrates; it just means I like to do it. Kinda like me singing... but that's a whole different nightmare which we won't go into at this particular moment.

I would love to walk into a bookstore and see a book on a shelf for sale with my name listed as the author. I don't care if no one buys it. It's there. It's published. I'm only half-way there, with some writing credit given in a computer game (okay, shameless self-promotion for Master Of Orion III, which unfortunately wasn't a great computer game, but hell, enough people bought it, which means enough people read my stuff, and fuck it, I'll feed my ego here just for kicks).

But more even than that, I would like to write something on the lines of this story, which was so goddam funny that everyone who read it on that forum immediately told all their friends about it, and those people told others, and all of a sudden a million people all over the internet read this incredibly hilarious tale of how evil blimps can be. That is my true goal in life.

Since neither of the above incidents has happened yet, I'll head off to my next goal, which would be to drink this entire bottle of chocolate chip cookie cream liquor, because it's so goddam tasty. If anyone would like to donate their liver to my cause, I'd be grateful. Not yours, fizrep; it's probably worse than mine.