DRUNKEN CHICKEN COOKING

Below is Ms. A's creative and sneaky capture of a moment proving my inability to hold my liquor. In this case - vodka.

I think it beautifully encompasses what portions of our long weekends together are like.

This IS a true story. Yes, I did want to use bug spray. It's flammable so it would work. My taste buds - at that particular moment in time - were rather non-existent therefore it didn't matter if the chicken would end up tasting like bug spray. But there were other people, e.g. Ms. S. , who did care about the taste.

And, it's true that I suck at cooking. God only knows why (*cough - bug spray - cough, sputter*).

After having reviewed this series of pictures multiple times, I couldn't help but notice that I look a bit bitchy. I think that can be blamed on the vodka and as most of the ladies know, I'm not the most kindly person when drinking that stuff. Beer makes me happy, vodka makes me bitchy and wine makes me cry.

On the other side of the battle field, Ms. S. looks kindly distressed at this odd and nonsensical confrontation.

And don't even bother with feeling bad for her.

Ms. S. started it all and given this is my blog, I get to say so. She's the one who told me to bring the vodka knowing full-well what I am capable of while deep in my cups. So there.

Speaking of cups - yes, I'm wearing a bra from the 1950's and no, I'm not embarrassed. When embarking to float on a sea of booze, one must have reinforcements - i.e. a good and solid bra. Lord knows I wasn't out to look sexy!

RIOTOUS FLOWERS

So…I’ve been a bit detached from writing lately. My apologies.

BUT! A recent interaction has snapped me back to life so I can finally create this posting regarding the Drunken Beauties of whom I've now nicknamed the Riotous Flowers.

First thing – why are my ladies (yes, they are mine – every last one of them – although they seem to own me more so than I own them) now being referred to as Riotous Flowers? Well, Drunken Beauties sounds a bit insulting as if we’re a clod of slobbering, drooling, beauty pageant whores which is most definitely not our style. I’d like to think of us as elegant, intelligent, sweet smelling yet slightly pickled flowers in various stages of blossom.

Second thing – the words ‘Riotous Flowers’ have always fascinated me. I’ve read many novels and such where the author will refer to the blooming flowers of a garden in spring or summer as rioting. I understand the meaning of such phraseology but every time I’ve read it, I’ve pictured my own garden - full of tiger lilies, wild roses and the other unidentified flowers - all screaming and fighting each other for supremacy which is entertaining in my imagination but far from the truth. It’s always the weeds that are trying to choke out the flowers and plants and these weeds are far from riotous as well. They tend to be more stealth-like in their attack; they’re definitely not noisy and I’ve never seen them move however they do move and quickly when I’m not looking. So…to make amends with my imagination, I’ve decided to correct the term by applying it metaphorically to my ladies.

Last thing – to bring all of this full circle and to explain why this posting has finally surfaced. The same place from last year called me to confirm this year’s reservations. I was surprised! I guess we must not have been as bad as I thought since they called me! I honestly didn’t think they would call to confirm considering we didn’t behave as proper women of intelligent independence ought to. That would be according to the ‘mass-majority’. And if I truly cared, I might behave differently but I really don't care - therefore, TO HELL WITH THEM!

But I digress.

Back to bringing this full circle…the woman who called me happens to be named Rose, she’s the matriarch/owner of the campground, and she just so happens to have a wicked crush on me which makes ‘Riotous Flowers’ even more appropriate. While Rose isn’t my type, I will continue to flirt with her as long as she’s willing to let us return every year to disturb her campground with our debauched machinations. Oh the sacrifices I make simply for the privilege to enjoy the company of my female companions for a couple of days!

NOW – rather than try to recreate the entire weekend, day by day, blow by blow, I’ve decided to post some pictures .

My next posting will be pictures of a little something that Ms. A put together for Ms. S and me. It's all about drunken chicken cooking - an incident she recorded during this particular weekend. Never never cook chicken when drunk and for God's sakes don't touch the hot coals!! My thumbprint still hasn't come back!