Party's over....
and I'm, happily, home where I belong.
I missed on my predictions (see previous blog). No rice or 'birria' but, there were beans. Instead strips of thinly sliced beef grilled outdoors, very tasty and surprisably chewable. Chewablility is always a consideration when buying Mexican meat, especially beef. Some of it cannot be perforated, unless you have tiger teeth.
Also, grilled chorizo, perfect rolled into hot tortillas dipped in a variety of homemade sauces. Then, of course, there was birthday cake and tequila mixed in with limeade and screaming children.
Children are given preference over all other life forms. If they wish run through the house screaming and kicking a soccer ball the adults simply talk louder to be heard. The shrillness of a child's shriek does not upset or interfere with anybody. Only old farts like me are affected but, that's why God made hip flasks, so that all goes well.
Turns out I was overly concerned about those fucking label readers. The two most dangerous of them were no problem today. One, the lesser evil, had to go back to work so he eliminated himself. The other, the real deal, had to with hold. Seems he recently committed a superbly stupid blunder while drunk and his wife has eliminated him from the game. For the time being.
So, I must go now. There's a good fight on TV and a couple drinks left in the flask and I still haven't weighed in.
I missed on my predictions (see previous blog). No rice or 'birria' but, there were beans. Instead strips of thinly sliced beef grilled outdoors, very tasty and surprisably chewable. Chewablility is always a consideration when buying Mexican meat, especially beef. Some of it cannot be perforated, unless you have tiger teeth.
Also, grilled chorizo, perfect rolled into hot tortillas dipped in a variety of homemade sauces. Then, of course, there was birthday cake and tequila mixed in with limeade and screaming children.
Children are given preference over all other life forms. If they wish run through the house screaming and kicking a soccer ball the adults simply talk louder to be heard. The shrillness of a child's shriek does not upset or interfere with anybody. Only old farts like me are affected but, that's why God made hip flasks, so that all goes well.
Turns out I was overly concerned about those fucking label readers. The two most dangerous of them were no problem today. One, the lesser evil, had to go back to work so he eliminated himself. The other, the real deal, had to with hold. Seems he recently committed a superbly stupid blunder while drunk and his wife has eliminated him from the game. For the time being.
So, I must go now. There's a good fight on TV and a couple drinks left in the flask and I still haven't weighed in.
posted by bbuckman | 5:50 PM
3 Comments:
The label reader reminds me of my old housemate John. He'd say: "I'll make dinner. It's my turn." Ok! "I'm going to make linguine, can you supply the bread."
Me: Sure
Him: And can you pick up a lettuce and a couple tomatoes?
I'd come home with the goods and he'd say: I opened a bottle of your wine, hope you don't mind, and used some of your olive oil and parmesan and garlic.
And we'd have linguine aglio y olio, salad, bread and wine. How convenient.
Aha! You DO have a flask! I was going to suggest that you bring some decoy bottle of "MacCormack's Own Scotch" or something, and hip flask the real stuff.
You are a pro, sir. I bow to your superior liquor hording prowess.
Suebob, the guy who prepares you dinner using your ingredients and the label reader are sub-species of the same family.
Toasted, thanks. I have been protecting my stash from label readers for several decades.
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