Hanging out by the bar of a club in downtown Los Gatos last night, I was feeling quite debonair in my gray cashmere sweater, complemented by a blue scarf which dangled from my neck ever so casually. In my right hand was my 3rd drink in less than hour, which, needless to say, I took swigs of in a less-than-gingerly manner. It was, after all, my drink of choice: a Martini. Shaken not stirred, you ask? Not exactly. Think less James Bond but more Carrie Bradshaw (of Sex and the City). Now, ridicule all you want, but I love my Apple Martinis, and I have been dubbed as the metrosexual James Bond by a friend due to my undying devotion to this drink.

Anyway, I was merrily sipping the sweet-and-sour goodness of the aforementioned cocktail when my sole wingman for the night, Vu, said something remarkably funny. (I don’t remember what it was, and he claims he did not say anything at all.) Despite my attempt to literally contain myself from laughter, I could not, and that’s when small particles of Appletini started spraying out my mouth, into the cold, dark air of the club … and onto Vu’s smiling noggin. No harm done, I thought, since Vu has seen me do far worse things than that when I’m, um, tipsy. But that was before I saw and heard this cutesy blonde in front of me, flanked by 2 burly dudes on each side, no less.  She was wearing a sleeveless top and just happened to cross my path at the … exact … wrong … moment.

It felt like the rest of the club stood still as I, as did she, saw the mist — my saliva/vodka-laden mist — splattered on her arm. It was then she let loose a loud, horrific shriek:”EWWWWWWWW!”

Now, that has got to be one of the most memorable reactions I’ve received from a girl. (Beat that, 007!)

P.S. Because of this incident, I’m no longer considered as the metrosexual James Bond, but instead, am now dubbed as Shamu, the animal who spritzes cocktails out the blowhole. I think I like my old moniker much better.

I kinda had this feeling that since I was Cory Doctorow for halloween I should actually get to blogging about things.   Kinda feel like life is going quite fast at the moment.  Research is going alright, I still feel pretty dumb, but that is expected as a first year i guess.   GR is going,  Homework is still a pain to get around to doing, but it keeps me motivated i guess.   

Halloween was pretty sweet.  and by halloween I guess I really mean the day before halloween, since that is where I did most of my living of the day.  Started it a bit early so that I could bring my costume in early and not get accosted for it.   I played it pretty low key and kept most of it in my bag,  Made some plots, but Marc Dropped by to ask some questions about MacFusion and the the whole SSH mounting system on mac (macFUSE).    Currently it just installs on my machine no issue, but for his snow leopard there was some futzing that needed to be done.  It at first was not liking the fix, but that was fixed by checking the mount point permissions.   Although I lost a bit of time working on it.  I don’t think that it is time to switch to snow leopard with all of its quirks.  

I continued on, addressing a bundle of emails from the research group.  I do enjoy this new email system that is different with this research group, but I am worried that I am over emailing people.    With my new office setup, I actually see much much more people, which is nice, but sometimes a distraction.  But it is really only a distraction, when people dont want to do anything, like on the Friday before Halloween.  I explained my costume twice to other grads, and started to feel like I should have been someone more mainstream, but alas,  they seemed to like the balloon.  

I continued working, and noticed that I needed to work on reading papers, since I have been falling behind on that account.  Soon enough it was 3, so I headed over to mayer to get my account in order, and get my check.  I picked up Jacob’s and dropped it off at SE before heading back to cass.  I grabbed some BK, since I was getting peckish.  I guess I should have seen if others wanted food, but i failed on that account.    Afterwards, it was a quick email before dressing up in costume.  ”Aight, I put on my robe and wizard hat”  lol.   But really I just put in my contact, since I was lazy in the morning, and got my sunglasses on, and cape in order.  Darcy dropped by and got ’shot’ with her crazy costume. I headed upstairs to BASH and started drinking.  Bash was pretty fun, but I started to feel idiotic for picking such an obscure costume.  At least it was easy and that I had everything.   I left the balloon downstairs, since I thought it was going to be windy.   Trevor was the spectacle with his bleeding jesus costume.     

Afterwards, I headed downstairs to clean up my office before heading out.  Darcy was still putting on her costume, and swung by to ask where she should put all of her bullet holes and the sort.   Vanessa rolled by, and again I had to explain my costume.  James also rolled by and was joining us for the festivities which was nice.    We headed out in two groups, since Darcy had to grab her boots and coat.  

When we got to the GSA event, it was quite filled.  Much more than last year.    There was three different lines, One for the porter/pale,  one for a IPA/pale,  and one for wines, and mixed drinks.   There was a semi constant flow of pizza which was good.  The smoked porter was good as well.   I also had the appletini.  Yeah Marc, I said it…   All in all it was quite fun.  Especially messing with jacob’s costume.     I actually went out and met a couple of people.  and my lack of costume kinda helped, but I was not quite sure honestly since it was setup like a club, and I could not discern other’s body language that well.

We then headed out to Darcy’s new apartment to continue the party post gsa event.  Her New pad is pretty sweet.  I was winding out after the event, and I was not too talkative.  Did talk to Casey and others.   On the bus? / walk to the bus, I talked with Ellie, and got her to come out as well.    As the party started up, I ended up with a whole log of calls and started to get angry directing people to the apartment every few minutes.  I ended up silencing my phone since I was just getting angry with it after trying to pawn off my duties to Jacob.  I thank Hosam for taking up the slack.   I returned to my quiet post drinking contemplative state, which most people think that I am angry, but I am just self reflecting about life in general.  I thought about my current state of being, and decided it was time to go home, to escape all the loud talking.  Said night to friends and talked with Mike on the way out.

I was mainly thinking that I need some motovation to get out and do things around SD.  I have started to make lists of things that I want to start doing, but I have no motovation to do them.   and a good half of the list is limited because of the singularity issue at hand.  but we will see how that works out.

I deposited checks this morning, and headed out to a beach for a bit.  it was a nice get away from the office.    I kinda want to find me a life outside of physics, but everytime that I do, I feel like I am not pushing enough effort into physics.

While a bunch of my friends are down the road having fun at Beer Fest, I’m turning into a domestic goddess.  I’m talking laundry, vacuuming and picking up countless toys so I don’t break an appendage.  My list is a mile long these days and I just realized I’m probably not going to paint the living room/kitchen wall Behr Appletini today.   I did a massive pickup effort on the top floor and I’m winded. What’s up with that?

So in my journey today I realized there are two tools no domestic queen can be without.  The first is the Swiffer SweeperVac.  If you have a kitchen floor, hardwood floor, anything besides carpet.  This is your go to.  I have two black labs, so the dog hair is immense.  I have tried countless mini vacs for the hardwood floors and the problem was always that they didn’t have filters you can replace.  Dog hair will gunk up a vacuum filter faster than you can say sit stay heel.  The beauty of the Swiffer SweeperVac is you can buy replacement filters in the Swiffer aisle at your favorite store without fail.  I can’t describe it better than the Swiffer people themselves”

You would think I get paid to say this

“In one powerful step , Swiffer SweeperVac gets it all-big and small-in

any room of your home. It uses the Swiffer Dry Cloth to trap and lock dirt,

dust, and pet hair, and then uses a vacuum to pick up the big stuff.

Lightweight and compact, SweeperVac works around furniture and

appliances with ease, giving you a better clean than a broom and dustpan.
Swiffer SweeperVac doesn’t require any vacuum bags. The canister can be removed

with the push of a button to easily dispose of dirt, dust and larger particles.”

Also on this website you can find a $5 off coupon on the whole ensemble.  I say go now.  Run.

My other favorite product is the Oxiclean Laundry Remover Spray.  I don’t want to sound like a television commercial, but this stuff REALLY works.  Just try it.  I’ve also used it on carpet stains and it works well there.

Better than anything out there right now

Add these two to your shopping list!

Happy cleaning!

j

Give me a Appletini then.

(Although I am SO disappointed that there is no Martini in a Appletini. Really something not to sleep during the night about.)

Dear everyone,

For the past several days, my Jewish friend Rachel has harassed me constantly to write about her wedding, which took place last Sunday. Each day I get twelve text messages, each one increasingly more aggressive and vulgar. So I should write about it, lest she drives down here and stabs me on Rosh Hashanah, or worse, makes me eat gefilte fish or something.

But first, the bachelor party. Her husband, Eli, wanted to go to a strip club, so his Engineer friend, Stan, and I took him to one, which reminds me of a great joke that started with “An Asian, a Jew, and a nerd walked into a strip club…” but we’ll save that for another day.

Anyway, this was my first bachelor party, and also my first strip club. Luckily, I had cleared this up with the fiancée and Rachel, so it was all kosher. (Kosher. Get it?!) Eli, going all wild, ordered two appletinis. We watched the dancers on stage, and I was quite amazed. First of all, the women were all very talented and athletic. I dare any of you to try to cling upside down naked at the top of a metal pole using only one leg while tossing your hair seductively. I’ve only done this once, and let me tell you, it’s not easy, considering the high potential for friction burn.

 Second of all, it’s very hygienic. After every third performer or so, the mirrored wall was thoroughly sprayed with Lysol and wiped down, erasing all traces of hand, foot, and cleavage prints. If it weren’t for the constant stream of undergarments and dollar bills being artfully scattered, I bet the floor would be clean enough to eat off.

The women were very nice, coming up and asking if we wanted personal lap dances. Eli had a couple. I respectfully declined, somewhat awkwardly, not really knowing how to talk to strippers. For example, one dancer, whose skimpy outfit fluoresced neon green under the black light, came up to me and introduced herself as Jasmine.

Jasmine: So, what do you do?

Me: I work for a nonprofit. What about you?

Jasmine: I’m a stripper…

Wait wait, it gets even more awkward. I really need to polish my strip joint conversation skills.

Me: So…how do you like working here?

Jasmine: I love it! Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t! Are you all having a good time?

Me: Yes, thank you. Uh…we really appreciate all your hard work.

Anyway, at the end of the night, the two Appletinis and one Lemon Drop finally hit Eli, so we walked him home. Two days later, Jameelah and I drove through a fearsome rain to get to their wedding. This was our first Jewish wedding, and we were very excited and extremely ignorant. “So they stand underneath this piece of cloth called the Chuppah,” said Jameelah, who had been with Rachel for a simultaneous bachelorette party while we guys were at the strip club. My only exposure to Jewish culture comes from episodes of Seinfeld, so I imagined there would be someone being lifted on a chair, and people saying stuff like “Oy, no gefilte fish? What kind of a meshugah is this?” (Please don’t stab me, Rachel, Gwen, and other Jewish friends).

We arrived in time to see Rachel circling Eli seven times, gazing lovingly at him. They looked so happy, underneath the white Chuppah, which was held up at each corner by a pole carried by a friend. The ceremony was fast and painless, accompanied by the soft whisper of the rain and the gentle rumbling of the waterfall a hundred feet away. The setting sun cast a golden glow on the bride and groom, illuminating their beaming faces. It was perfect. Then the rabbi had them drink from a wine glass, and Eli smashed the wine glass with his foot to represent that their vows would never be broken, and that his shoes are strong enough to smash glass, which means he is able to afford shoes and thus is stable enough to provide for his family (OK, I made this second part up, but it sounds plausible). Rachel looked beautiful and glowing and not at all mean like usual.

The reception was small, about 50 people total, and very elegant. You know a restaurant is elegant when your food is tiny yet tastefully presented. Jameelah and I were excited when the servers brought us our special vegan entrees: four grams of delicious roasted vegetables, delicately presented on fine China. The free-flowing wine was especially appreciated. I didn’t drive, so I accepted the refills each time the server came around, which was four or five times.

The bride and groom cut the cake, a cute and very tasteful cake, and then everyone went outside for crazy circle dancing, during one song of which the married couple were carried around on chairs. It was the most wild, happy, fun experience you can ever having without involving a Karaoke machine.

For some reason, I didn’t remember anything else that transpired that night, except arguing with one of the other guests about the merit of having blank white walls in a house (why hang anything up? It just ruins the beauty of simplicity). Must have been tired. I woke up the next morning and got a text from Rachel: “Blog!!”

So what is the lesson from all this, you ask? Human beings are very interesting animals, and the concept of the bachelor/bachelorette party just proves it. Having such a party seems to say “This is your last chance at pho; after this, it’s just rice forever.” What sort of sane person, realizing the restrictiveness of marriage, would ever agree to it? And yet we do it all the time. The bachelor party, then, in a way represents the realization of and the surrender to one form of inevitable death: the death of romantic freedom. But after seeing how happy Rachel and Eli are, maybe not all surrenders are bad, and sometimes accepting an inevitable restriction of a freedom can itself foster the attainment of a higher form of that freedom. Don’t you agree?

Mazel tov, Rachel and Eli! Now stop texting me!

Fancy Drinks.

It amazes me that we will starve ourselves to be thin yet we will never hesitate to down drinks in pink, green, blue, or yellow hues– doused in an unbelievable amount of sugar and calories.

Pop a piece of fruit on it and we’re there.

I used to be a bartender. I know. Drinks are an indicator of a woman’s personality. Gentleman, if you can find a woman that is down with Bourbon and a mixer, marry her. She’s a keeper. If she can’t do anything but sip on a Daquiri–she is a questionable human being at best.

And so I present, the typical Fancy Drinks women love–and what that drink says about the women that drink it.

Here it goes…

Gross.

The Margarita

This is the “I don’t give a shit about myself” drink.

Loaded in salt, sugar, and some yellow/green shit, it is the ultimate party starter in any Mexican restaurant. Let’s face it, most people that order this piece of crap don’t care what kind of tequila is in it. It’s just in there. Drink up.

Between the chips, that chicken and cheese quesadilla you just scarfed down in 2.5 minutes flat and the pitcher of liquid crap you funneled, have fun with that after-effect tomorrow. Women that insist on this drink everytime they party are lonely, depressed, or downright done with caring about themselves. It’s a sad, sad drink.

I’ll drink ‘em every once in awhile. I’ll say something like “I don’t give a shit! Let’s a get a pitcher! Whoo Hoo!”

I rest my case.

Carrie loves this drink...

Cosmopolitan

Cosmo for short bitches.

If you don’t know what this is, you have never seen Sex and the City. Therefore, you are not cool.

This is the ‘trendy drink.’ It’s pink, relativley low cal, and comes in a cute glass. A lady that orders this everytime she goes out wants to be The Shit. She must always look fashionable and appear to be fabulous. She judges every lady that walks in the door. She scoffs at the men looking in her direction. They are looking, you know. This is the drink for women that wish they lived in the city (any city) but are confined to the suburbs.

I effing love a good Cosmo.

So cute!

Appletini (Zach Braff’s fav)

I used to make these like gangbustas when I bartended.

The Appletini is the bubbly girl’s answer to the Cosmo. “It’s sweet and sour! OMG!”  Green, sugary and without a hint of alcohol to taste, young drinkers love this one. It looks sophisticated but it actually isn’t. Awesome.

“I like mine with a cherry! Want to see me tie the stem into a knot with my tongue? I can do it! I swear!” Sound familiar?

This one is tasty. It is cute. It sneaks up on you. That’s the kind of lady that drinks this thing. Cute, bubbly and probably tasty. Either way, she’s high maintenance and will drive you nuts by the end of the night. This is the kind of girl that will meet a guy and declare that she loves him after about 5 more  glasses of this alien pee. Then she’ll cry when he leaves. She’ll also throw up when she gets home. Love her.

Have fun with that one.

Beach? check. Rum? check. Depends? check.

The Daquiri/Any Frozen Drink

The old lady drink.

Picture a tropical island. Beautiful bodies on the sand, waves washing to shore. Then the middle-aged partiers show up. What are the old ladies drinking? You guessed it. Break out the rum bitches.

Look, most ladies love a good frozen, alcoholic popscicle. Delicious. They just become much more popular with age for some reason. If they aren’t drinking a frozen Margarita (see first example), bring on the Daquiri. They get drunk as crap off of these things–which amazes me because there’s hardly any alcohol in them!

Maybe it’s because rum is easy. Rum is safe. Rum is yummy. Who knows?

Word of advice–when the seniors start doing the limbo, you know it’s time to jet.

I know,  I  know. All of the drinks mentioned above are tasty. We have all consumed said drinks. There are just typical women that insist on these every single time they decide to get crazy. Break the mold! Get out of your rut! Re-invent yourself!

Just sayin’….

My first alcoholic drink was an Appletini at the matured age of 24.

Here are two obvious things:

1. Dr John Dorian is my hero

2. I am seen as a oddity in my country

Australia is a drinking country. I chose not to tell anyone about the fact that I hadn’t drunk alcohol as the shocked looks were getting to be a hassle (though it helped me kick ass at ‘I have never’). But then one day, I decided to take the plunge. I was out for drinks with Lou, Carly & Sarah and took the plunge.

“Appletini please” I implored the barkeep. His brow furrowed. Clearly this man had never watched Scrubs. I didn’t know whether to be sad or disgusted.

“What’s in that?” he asked. It was what I feared most. How the hell would I know what was in a Appletini? I’m assuming apple and tini. Dude, you’re a barman.

“Um, it’s like a martini… with apple. Appletini” I repeated, hoping he would just take my frickin’ order.

“Ok. Well… I’ll get the barmaid to make one and you can tell me if it’s right or not”

Yeah, that’s going to happen. I ate a couple of hot donuts and waited for my drink, feeling very cosmipolitan and fancy. It arrived. It had a piece of apple on the rim pierced with a stick. It was green.

It tasted like absolute crap. Think apple mixed with turps.

See, as many people have so kindly pointed out to me, was that I chose an Appletini as my first alcoholic drink. I thought I would never drink alcohol again. I was also pretty sure that my conception of people who raved about cocktails being eejits was confirmed. No one could drink that crap and like it. I drank about half of it due to the fact that this paint stripper cost me $12. Ugh.

Happy ending to the story: I had a frozen margarita a week later and enjoyed it. Except for the salt that I thought was sugar and took a big mouthful of.

Hope you enjoy your appletini and apps sampler while this creepy kangaroo channels the death bunny from Donnie Darko.

Thanks Chris.

Imagine this: you are at a cocktail party: chatting, mingling, nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, a total stranger walks up and throws their Appletini in your face.  What do you do? Throw your drink in their face? Arch an eyebrow and toss off a withering bon mot? Or do you walk away, consult your lawyers, then return days later with a scripted response?

At The 24/7 Social Media Cocktail Party, You Will Meet Some Boors.

This is not an idle exercise; it’s actually a reasonable gauge of any organization’s comfort with the all-access world of social media.  Recently, a planner friend of mine told me how–metaphorically speaking–this very thing happened to McDonald’s after they posted a spot on a social networking site. Within the first few comments, PETA activists showed up and launched a coordinated assault against the ad, the restaurant, and most every aspect of the McDonald’s business. The client was horrified and wanted to immediately pull the posting; a corporate reaction that is totally natural and understandable.

But in this environment, it’s also totally wrong.  This medium is ’social’–even if you are there as a corporation, the group expects you to behave like a human being.  You can’t suddenly lawyer up and start speaking in that robotic, Teflon language of corporate PR; this simply isn’t the venue.  Transparency is critical.  Imperfection is okay.  Immediacy is everything.

People go to social media to talk, so anything that happens, generates discussion and debate. Returning to the cocktail party metaphor, how would other guests view that unprompted assault?  They probably wouldn’t like it anymore than if someone launched into a strident political diatribe over crab cakes; it’s uncalled for and entirely inappropriate. Yes, the insult remains, the offense still happened and you will definitely need to get your tie dry cleaned, but in the end, the other guests will see that you were wronged, not wrong, and so based on your response, many otherwise neutral bystanders will now actually support you.

Negative opinions like these have always been out there, we just never saw them. They were never widely published.  We never had web-scrubbing programs that could uncover them and bring them to our attention. Now that we do, the real challenge is determining the importance of any particular negative comment.  Is that thought viral?  Or is it simply the rantings of a crank?  We need to know the difference.  If we respond to every potential threat, we will exhaust ourselves in the effort and waste untold resources on this fool’s errand.

At Element 79, we advise clients considering social media efforts to take a brutally honest look at their own corporate culture and assess how comfortable they are with public exposure.  A few take to it naturally, putting themselves out there in a highly-human manner, but many more recoil.  They worry about liability and the need to protect proprietary assets.  In the new world of social media, these clients are agoraphobic, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.  Emily Dickinson, arguably America’s greatest poet, was a noted eccentric who could not stand the thought of public spaces, and she did pretty well for herself. The same applies to client organizations; when you’ve made literally hundreds of millions of dollars over the years behaving one way, you need some strong fiscal arguments to change those ways. As of yet, there are no guarantees that entering social media will pay off for every organization. In fact you could create a rather compelling argument that to date, it has paid off for very few, and may never pay off for some.  Every medium is not appropriate for every organization–that truth endures.  The key demand today is for organizations to truly know themselves.

Which, interestingly, applies to people as well.

By Dennis Ryan, CCO, Element 79

Il a été appris aujourd’hui que le sympathique ex-champion du monde de boxe Dave Hilton Jr. fait une fois de plus face à la justice.  Le pauvre bouc émissaire a été accusé de violence à l’égard de sa conjointe, agression armée et violation de ses filles condition pour avoir consommé de l’alcool (un Cosmo ou un Appletini, sans aucun doute).

Je crie au scandale! SCANDAAAALE! Ce n’est pas parce qu’un homme bat sa femme, viole ses filles, brise sa probation, agresse des gens, tapoche du monde, a des connexions avec la mafia, massacre le français/anglais/marmonnements, fait des menaces de mort et vient de l’Ontario qu’il est un mauvais gars!

Moi, je t’appuie Dave! Laisse-moi traduire en ta langue, afin que tu comprennes bien:  “Heille, moé, je appuie sur toé, là, tsé, Dave, heille, come on!”  Je suis convaincu que ce gentilhomme est innocent! Je n’ai pas peur de le crier sur les toits: “Dave Hilton est innocent! Le plus innocent! Le MEILLEUR innocent!”

Et cette opinion n’a rien à voir avec le fait qu’il peut me détruire les os d’un seul battement de cils. Aucun lien.

(c) sparklygrey sequin-n-silk blouse s/s ‘09-09

every partey worth crashing needs to be crashed. for all eyes on the crasher choose something seriously HF.

a statement will be made by the chic blouse with intertwined sequined stripes, and semitransparent silk or chiffon sleeves+hem.

for the ultimate rock-chick stunner – worn with XXL silver-plate earrings, glossy almost-leather pants (save the wild life and good taste and not opt for real leather, wontcha?) or überblack tights, and hills as high as one can walk in without falling off.

to tone down on beatchiness and actually keep those peeps from being scared to offer you a drink, pair with a cute strassed green apple clutch

also in a fluffless version (simply sequins)

(c) sparklygrey sailor overall s/s ‘09-05

summer is for sailing, naturally

to create a look sharp and clean like Ikea furniture, a blue-n-white is the classic set.

for yacht days out in the blue, full of salty wind, appletinis and lazy conversations, a navy-blue white-stitched overall with a corseted top, wide boot-cut trousers split in front to show off pretty feet, and golden sailor-inspired details, such as anchor studs, is the item.

perfect match is a crispy white shirt with black stripes and puff sleeves, or a simple vest.

paired with a light knitted pompon-hat and cute white pumps, can be shamelessly displayed at any harbour.

I love St. Patrick’s Day. I love parades and shamrock stickers and Irish soda bread. I love getting very drunk and being festive on the one day of the year that anyone can be Irish. That being said I do not enjoy getting very drunk off of green beer. Something about green beer feels unnatural to me, like my insides are being coated in that slime from Nickelodeon and frankly the novelty wore off after my first pub crawl when my tongue stayed green for days.

But what is St. Patrick’s Day without green beverages? Will I be forced to drink average colored beer if I nix the food coloring? Or worse yet, will I get my “Irish and Proud” t-shirt revoked?

Well I’ve got news for whoever wants to go up against this Irish lush – I will not be taken down without a fight! Not while there are plenty of other delicious green concoctions floating around, anyway. So don’t panic, I have some St. Patrick’s day drinks that are just as fun and twice as effective.

The classic Appletini (which I have renamed Apple O’Tini for the sake of St. Patrick’s Day)

1.5 oz of Smirnoff Green Apple Twist Vodka

1 oz DeKuyper Sour Apple Pucker Schnapps

Erin Go Margarita

1.5 oz of Tequila

.5 oz of Triple sec

1 oz Lime juice

Kiss Me I’m Irish (and drunk)

1 oz Midori Melon Liqueur

1 oz Whiskey sour mix

2 oz Sprite

Shamrock Shooter (aka Kamikazee Jello Shots)

1 (6 oz) Package of lime Jello

10 oz Citrus vodka

4 oz Blue Curacao

2 oz Lime Juice

Dissolve Jello in boiling water and add alcohol

Get Lucky Punch

2 (12 oz) cans frozen limeade concentrate

2 (12 oz) cans frozen lemonade concentrate

2 (2 liter) bottles lemon-lime flavored carbonated soda

1 (750 milliliter) bottle rum

2 quarts lime sherbet

New Year’s is long gone.  The singles just finished drowning their emotions in V-day bar specials.  What do we celebrate next? Ahh… St. Patrick’s Day.  The most nationalistic holiday that still manages to include people of every gender, race, culture, and alcohol tolerance.

St. Pat’s is the holiday that has never been sugar-coated with false meaning or wholly commercialized by Hallmark (sure greeting cards exist, but who really gives them?).  So make sure you embrace your inner Irish and do it up right on March 17.

1.  The Booze.

To throw a full-on Irish bash, you have to have an appropriate alcohol selection.  Well, what do you know? GoIreland.com happens to have a handy list of the most popular libations of the Emerald Isle, in case you’ve never heard of Jameson or Guinness.

Make sure you bar is stocked with whiskey, irish cream, and the beer they call “a meal in a can,” but don’t neglect some other favorites.  Other popular beers include Murphy’s Stout, Kilkenny, and Smithwick’s.  Cider is also a favorite.  If you’re a perfectionist, you might try to get your hands on some Meade or Poitín.

But perhaps I’m getting ahead of myself.  We are college students after all – mix up some Green Appletinis and make a few trays of lime Jell-O shots, and you won’t hear any complaints.  Really want some green magic to happen? Try to get your hands on the ultimate green liquor, absinthe, and let the green fairy fly.

2.  The Music.

Dropkick Murphy’s are always a good choice.  U2, the Cranberries, Flogging Molly, or Thin Lizzy will also get people into the Irish spirit.  Once the Jameson lowers your guests’ inhibitions, you may want to throw on some Irish Step tunes and see who clears enough space to perform what they call a “Riverdance” routine.

Oh, but don’t neglect the ever-popular Irish drinking songs.  CelticMP3s.com offers a variety of websites and downloads to browse, but you can also order The Holy Grail of Irish Drinking Songs from Amazon.  Or, ya know, just search for “Finnegan’s Wake” on iTunes.

3.  The Food

Corned beef and cabbage or baked potatoes! On second thought… maybe take the Americanized St. Pat’s route here and put out chips with guacamole and green cupcakes or something.

4.  The Games

Make up silly drunken limericks.  Place everyone’s name in a hat, and pass it around.  Make everyone try to make a limerick out of the name of the person whose name they chose.  It might be hard for names like Elizabeth, but anyone who’s seen a particular Seinfeld ep will be oh-so-glad they invited Dolores to the party.

If you can’t get everyone to focus long enough to be creative and rhyme stuff, play Irish Quarters. Basically, you spin a quarter and then chug beer until the quarter stops.  There are no winners in this game. And we all lose the next morning.

For all the heavyweights in the room, take the Irish Roulette challenge. Everyone lines up a shot and rolls a dice.  The lowest number drinks.  In the event of a “tie,” it’s a social. Be careful with this one, friends.

5.  The Decorations

Um, are you kidding me? Green everywhere.  Shamrocks too, and maybe a pot of gold if you really want to go all out.

Be creative this St. Patrick’s Day.  Think of all the festive ways you can celebrate, because after this holiday, what do we have? Easter? That’s the last holiday to succumb to serving as an excuse for collegiate binge-drinking.  Besides, it’s the only day of the year you can use the pick-up lines, “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” (whether you really are, of course is a different story), “Show me your shamrocks!” or, “Hey, are you a leprechaun? Because you make me want to get lucky.” Okay, no, maybe not.

But seriously folks, do stay safe on this holiday, as with every other.

The Irish have a saying: An Irish man is never drunk, as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass and fall off the face of the earth.

I don’t care if you just flew in from Dublin.  Your tolerance is NOT that high.