Filed under: Late Night, Lizstomania, Uncategorized | Tags: awesomeness, chocolate, diner, drinking, drive thru, drunkenness, eating, Falmouth, fast food, food, grilled cheese, ice cream, MadAtoms, McDonalds
Recently, Madatoms, one of my favorite blogs, featured “The Drunk Cookbook.” I couldn’t help but laugh; I definitely have had some run ins with similar “cooking” situations while ham-boned.
Here are some of my personal favorites- stories, recipes, advice- for when it comes to late night eating and drinking extravaganzas.
The McDonald’s Run
Once upon a time there were three idiots: Katie, Nick, and Shawn. Those three idiots tied one on and decided it would be a great idea to go to McDonald’s. It had been a while since they had all been to the fastfood mecca, and aside from not having much money, they wanted cheeseburgers.
This particular McDonald’s had a late night menu. 2, 3, 6, 9, 11, and 12 to be exact. No one could order a double cheeseburger, or a Happy Meal, or any kind of ice cream treat. Giddy with drunkeness, and annoyed the boys could not decide what to get, Katie shouted out “We’ll have six number 3s, two 11s, and a 12.”
$40 later, they were handed six quarter pounders, two ten piece chicken McNuggets, and a chicken sandwich of some kind. And don’t forget about the large bag, filled with French fries, and three large coca-colas.
It was disgusting.
The next day, Katie found the bag of uneaten fries, as well as disgusting, unidentifiable McDonald’s residue all over the car, and a beach of salt on the seats. It was as unappealing as the stories of digestive woe and anguish the band of idiots experienced that night. While they vowed to never go to McDonald’s again, and have not visited since, one day the story will come back to life, and the band of idiots will undoubtedly terrorize another McDonald’s drive-thru.
Challenge Meal: The McGangBang.
The Diner
“Let’s go to the diner!” It was a Thursday night, and they roomies should not have alerted Katie that they were awake.
Katie was hell bent on getting to the diner. She was loud and jumpy and rather wild. Especially for only 1:30 in the morning.
While they did not go to the diner, despite Katie’s calamity and craziness, Katie would repeat these sentiments on other nights. (This was not the first time Katie had drunkenly begged for a diner run, but it was the first time at her new home that she would shout in the night for such ridiculousness in eating.)
Ideal meal at a midnight diner run: greasy, or desserts. Or both if you can stomach it.
Challenge Meal: Whatever their most advertised monstrosity/eating challenge is on the menu.
Grilled Cheese
Grab a frying pan/skillet, a pound of butter, whatever cheese you can muster up from the depths of the fridge, some kind of bread.
Turn on stove. Throw butter in a cold pan, wait until it burns and smokes.
Place bread and butter haphazardly on pan.
Eat when ever you become sick of waiting for bread to brown, or until it’s almost on fire.
Drinker's note: Your drunk grilled cheese will NOT look this nice.
How many times have I done this? At a minimum, every Saturday night from June to August of 2010. And then some.
Challenge Meal: Eat as many grilled cheese as you can. Or accompany it with other leftovers in the fridge. Half a pizza? No problem.
The Ice Cream Man
When in doubt, if you are drunk and hungry, always get ice cream. The more, the better. This is a fact, intoxicated or otherwise.
One day Katie and Katelyn decided it would be a fantastic idea to get three pints of B&J at the White Hen Pantry (RIP) for a small get together of no more than five people. By the time they got back to the beach, it was only three. But only two wanted ice cream (duh) and they noshed at maybe half of one pint… But ice cream is great melted, sitting in the bottom of a cooler that’s been sitting out all night next to you on a beach. If you’re drunk enough, by all means, go for some ice cream soup to help that hangover.
If you are in the comfort of your home, dig in with a spoon. No other utensils necessary. No clean spoons? Go for a fork. Feel like closing the freezer? No worries- once everything defrosts you can just close the freezer door again in the morning as if nothing every happened. Family and roommates probably won’t notice for at least three weeks.
Drinker's note: This definitely seems like an ice cream treat a drunk man created. First of all, Fig Newtons are NOT the world's best cookie. In fact, they are even cookies. Second of all, when you're drunk, you will add weird things to your food, especially ice cream, which specifically invites you to add crazy things to! Drunk ice cream sundaes can be the best or worst thing that ever happens to you.
The best way to satisfy drunken ice cream cravings is to find a fast food joint that does not turn off the soft serve machine at night. While this varies from place to place, BK and McDick’s are certainly your best bet.
Challenge Meal: The whole quart of ice cream. Think I’m crazy? Drink enough whiskey, and if your into other things and have the munchies, I guarantee this is attainable. Whoever said less is more was wrong.
Up next, hangover breakfast!…..
Filed under: College, Rants & Ridiculousness | Tags: bitching, dorm life, food, ice cream, life, pizza, procrastination, Rant, sobriety, Villanova
- Girls running down the hall, dressed like hoochie mamas. – I won’t be your mother, but I certainly want to tell you that I can see your ass/you look like you’re asking for it/what would Father Peter say if he saw you?
- Behaving myself. – Whatever happened to summer in Falmouth, huh? I swear, I think I am having withdrawal headaches from not drinking. I don’t think that says very many good things about me, either…
- My eating habits. – All of a sudden, I am constantly hungry. But I really don’t want to eat the shitty shit they call food (I call “old fry grease soaked patties”) at the dining halls. Even the ice cream (or fro yo, or whatever it is) is not worth eating. And not even good pizza around here either!! I couldn’t believe it when I finally thought “I am eating pizza that is BAD.” Yadda yah, now it’s almost midnight, and I am munching on Special K, straight from the box. Fack.
- Summer reading. – Well at least my first lesson in procrastination is HERE and NOW. I am determined to finish this book by Monday, even if it means staying in for the next few nights reading… It’s a good read, but I’m slow, plus there is so much NOISE.
- Noise. – If it were quiet, I probably wouldn’t even be posting this right now.
- My steadily declining bank balance. – My trip to the book store tomorrow will NOT be helping, either. Enough said. This is mildly disappointing.
Filed under: Serendipity, Uncategorized | Tags: babysitting, cupcakes, Falmouth, free, future, generosity, happiness, ice cream, kids, kindness, life, random acts of kindness, RMV, Smitty
“Getting money is not all a man’s business: to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the business of life.” – Samuel Johnson
After a morning of unnecessary bullshit at the Registry of Motor Vehicles, a hammock nap, and some Hot Sauce bonding, I was ready to spend my evening babysitting. Ha, not exactly. Babysitting reminds me of how much I prefer drinking to everything else, but whatever.
We play Clue Jr, June gets angry that I inadvertently won. We make popcorn the old fashioned way, but not without breaking the spinner six times and nearly burning off all my fingertips with hot oil. My former uncle makes creepy phone calls to me and the kids, and the house is hot as fuck.
Although I figured they’d had enough sweets, I reneged and said “Let’s get out of here.”
We went for ice cream.
The kids went nuts.
Now, truth be told, this was the first time I had been to Smitty’s in Eastie all summer. Which, for an ice cream connoisseur like myself, is crazy. I eat ice cream every week, and the fact that I haven’t found time on a day off to make rounds at Smitty’s is weird. They have good stuff. It’s not Ben and Bill’s or Kimball’s, but I haven’t found a cone at Smitty’s that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy.
ANYWAY- So of course, I forgot that they only take cash. We’ve stood in line for twenty minutes, Stevie and June are jumping around like puppies on caffeine pills. I tell them not to move a muscle and sprint back to the car to find cash. I dig through my trunk of garbage and find eight bucks. Not enough for three ice creams, but enough for two. Somewhat disappointed that I won’t be able to share in their ice cream euphoria, I walk back to find June, like a 30 year old mother, ordering for herself and Stevie, reminding the scooper girl that Stevie has an allergy and whatnot. As she licks her cone, she is also shouting “Smitty’s is WAY better than Dairy Queen.” Okay, so maybe she is still ten years old after all.
June asks me why I’m not ordering an ice cream. “I forgot they don’t take cards here, June. I don’t have enough money.” Smitty approaches me. “Don’t worry about it- what can I get for you?”
To be honest, it was kind of like meeting a celebrity. I stuttered a bit and felt my heart beating. Lame, maybe, but here was the owner of one of my favorite ice cream places, offering me a free cone. He was insistent. “I’m here all the time, don’t worry about it,” I said. “No, really, it’s not a problem,” he replied. “What can I get you?”
I forked over my measly eight bucks and walked away with a free cone, two happy campers, and June continuing to be ten, profusely thanking the ice cream man and giving her two cents about how awful DQ is.
Suddenly my day didn’t suck anymore. I ate my ice cream on the picnic bench with the kids and was, if only for a moment, just as happy as they were.
My Smitty’s experience also made me think: why the hell do I want to make cupcakes for a living? Why aren’t I planning on making ice cream? Cupcakes are great, but there really is nothing in the world I love more than ice cream. & Time consuming, difficult, and tiresome as it is, the only thing I have ever been convinced I want as a career is to be an entrepreneur. I mean, if I can make someone feel as good as I did last night getting a free ice cream, then there really is no question.
I want to be an ice cream man.
Filed under: Lizstomania | Tags: happiness, ice cream, Lists, optimism, quotes, Woods Hole
Why today did not suck:
- I felt great and looked great in my brand new jeans. (Gotta love the Gap!)
I looked better than the model.
- It was my day off, and I got to relax.
It kind of looked like this in the Hole today.
- I scored a free pair of Cole Hann aviators from a friend.
And by God, do I love sunglasses.
- I didn’t get in trouble. Always a plus.
- I ate Dairy Queen.
Blizzard for the win!
Filed under: Rants & Ridiculousness, Uncategorized | Tags: Bourne, breakfast, Falmouth, ice cream, IHOP, weirdnerd
I’m not necessarily Anthony Bourdain, but I am a bit of a foodie. And by far, without a doubt, my favorite meal is breakfast. Mmm mmm mmm.
So tonight, when I was invited by some work buddies to go to the IHOP, I jumped on the opportunity.
SIDENOTE: I have only been to IHOP once. I have only been to Denny’s once. I much prefer local diners, cafes, etc to the chain garb. But breakfast after a long shift at work, regardless of the quality, sounds delicious to me.
I thought the cool thing about IHOP was that you go in the middle of the night, because it’s open, and there are drunks lying around and being entertaining. Also, there is cheap pancakes, homefries, and breakfast garb. These are all things I like. These are all things most people like. Why not go?
That's the one.
Well, apparently the Bourne IHOP is not open all night. We were there before midnight, and even though the restaurant’s website said it will be open until at least midnight after Memorial Day, that was not the case.
What a fucking bummer.
I wanted a strawberry pancake, damnit.
The group continued to drive through Wareham, up the Cranberry Highway and what not, but there was no other food destination. No fast food sightings. No open restaurants. We came back hungry.
So what did I do when I got home, angry about not having eaten all day?
Called over my man Edy and scooped myself a generous mug of ice cream.
Our freezer is almost like that.. Mmm, ice cream.
Things could be worse.
I’ve got a to do list half a mile long.
It seems even longer since I have slipped into the catatonic bliss that is Senioritis.
- I have three articles I am working on.
- I have to go to the New Hampshire National Honorless Society meeting/ceremony/brouhaha at seven.
- I need to prepare for my Thursday morning meeting with Joanne regarding my project.
- I have to go see Cassidy tomorrow at 6:30.
- I need to work on my Disney itinerary.
- I have to work on that disgusting psychology project with Paige tonight.
- And that’s not all.
But you know what makes it all much better? Knowing we will feast, briefly, on the brain food that is Kimball Farm ice cream. God, my friends are good ones.
Filed under: Rants & Ridiculousness, Senioritis, Uncategorized | Tags: books, breakfast, failure, free, ice cream, life, Lists, shoes
So my checking account is down to the $16.00 mark.
Yes, that’s one-six, sixteen, as in the age you can drive a car.
It was at $26.00 this morning, but I had to put $10 in my tank. But that’s life I suppose.
Lately, it has been very easy for me to think of reasons TO spend my money, as opposed to reasons why I should NOT spend my money (other than the fact that I DON’T HAVE ANY.) So I thought I would share them with you.
- Breakfast. I have a real weak spot for breakfast, and food in general. I love going out to breakfast, reading the paper, talking with people, chowing down on a nice, steamy omelet. Mmmm. I can taste that buttered toast and home fries now. But breakfast is about $10 every time I go out. Did I mention that mug of coffee is real endearing too?
- Gasoline. It seems like I always have an empty tank. Really, it’s less like news and more like… well, life.
- Shoes. I would love a new pair of summer shoes. I want a modified boat shoe. I think boat shoes are hideous, but I like their slip-on comfort. My madras slides are a little too yippity. I own one pair of Vans. They seem like the next best thing before flats or flip flops. I found a pair I really liked, Tretorn is all out. We’ll see how it all goes down. Hopefully Payless will have something more in my income bracket.
- Beads. For some reason, I have been really craving making a new little bracelet for myself. I really dig this one my girlfriend got me from Italia. I think it could use a friend. Or maybe in an ideal world, this one.
- A gym membership. For obvious reasons. And why the hell not? I enjoy watching other people sweat while I attempt to show off how fast I can run on that elliptical.
- Books. Whenever I go to a bookstore or coffee shop, or even Anthropologie, I always find a book I like or want or need or just can’t seem to put down. And I buy it. And 9 times out of 10, it doesn’t get read until months later. I have accumulated quite a stack of brand new paperback novels that haven’t even been fingered. But I love owning books. It’s really a terrible, terrible habit.
- Ice Cream. What can I say? Kimball Farm is like crack. Actually, it’s better than crack or any other illegal drug. I swear God pees in that ice cream cooker while they are making it. That is why it tastes so good.
- Freedom. Hello, yes, my name is Katie and I would like to buy my freedom. Mind helping me out? Yeah, I have toyed with the idea of renting my own place and moving out and whatnot, and now is the time.. although I don’t know if that will actually happen or not. We’ll see. It would be so very lovely to have some space for a while. It makes me feel bad for all those people trying to get into Arizona. Shit man, I know how you feel.
Katie
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Boston College, Boston University, choices, college, drinking, friends, George Washington, happiness, ice cream, Massachusetts, money, moving out, Northeastern University, Villanova
Scenario: You hear the ting ting song of the ice cream man coming down the street. You race to find a dollar, alert your sister, and bolt outside. The creeper stops the truck and greets you. And then you are faced with the toughest decision you may make all day, if not all week: what the hell am I going to get?
And this, my friends, is the exact dilemma I face with finally picking a college.
Like the ice cream man, price is important. What can I get with a dollar? (Nothing.) And so is perception. What will my friends think if I get this? (Loser.) You have to enjoy what you order. Am I going to like how this tastes? (You better.) Ice cream needs to have the right bells and whistles. No gum balls in this one? (You’re fucked.)
So while in some aspects, I have my choices limited down to ten (because those are the schools I applied to,) that’s still ten fucking choices!
Right now, I have been accepted into 8.5 out of 9 schools, and I am still waiting to hear back from NYU. Which means I can decide from:
- University of Vermont
- Boston College (1/2)
- Boston University
- Northeastern University
- UMASS, Amherst
- Fordham University
- Villanova University
- George Washington University
- Hawai’i Pacific University
(Those were organized North to South, by the way.)
Let’s eliminate a few.
Hawai’i – you are too damn far away and I have never been to Hawai’i. Plus your dorms are 30 minutes away from the main campus.
ZooMass – Fuck you. All my friends go there, and while tuition may be free for me, I would rather die than live in captivity with the other animals in the middle of a cow pasture.
UVM – I don’t want to become a habitual pot-smoker. And god DAMN is it cold.
Fordham – I could go here, I guess, but I never really gave it a lot of thought. And it’s small. I need a bigger school. I mean, I suppose we could get along just fine, but if I really wanted you, I would have made more of an effort.
Ha. Reread Fordham. What a break up letter.
So what am I down to?
- Boston College
- Boston University
- Northeastern
- Villanova
- George Washington
These are the heavy hitters.
For sanity’s sake, let’s eliminate NYU.
NYU – you intimidate me a little. And WTF no sports? Idiots. Get some damn athletes.
Okay.
Now here is the analysis as to why I would like to go to all these other schools:
Boston College – You are the alma mater of BOTH my parents. You have harbored my childhood with memories of football games, losing matchbox cars, and eating chocolate chip cookies at tailgates in Shea Field. I already know I’ll be happy here, because I am A) moderately preppy B) white C) Catholic D) a football fan and E) already familiar with what your school has to offer. And have been aware for years. I mean, really. My best, most favorite sweatshirt is that maroon BC juggernaut of a thing.
BUT, what’s up with the waitlist? To me, that is a sign that it isn’t meant to be. That means God, or something or someone out there, is telling me not to do it. And I listen to signs like that. Most of the time.
Boston University – I love your city streets. I love Boston. I love the lights, sounds, and smells. I love your hockey team, your diversity, your culture. I love the idea of having the option to minor in communications. I hear you’re renown for that. I know I could and would be happy in your arms. Simple as that.
BUT are there enough events on campus that my social life will be satisfied? Are you geared closely enough to your students? Because I know you have a lot of them. And on a scale of one to ten, how necessary will it be for me to get a fake id? Is there much else to do but go to the bars and clubs? (Not that I’m complaining, but I would rather start my inevitable romp to alcoholism after my senior year…)
Northeastern – You gave me a scholarship. I will definitely have a job when I leave college. You have athletics, a campus, amenities, and students. You fit the bill. I can’t really complain. I really can’t.
BUT am I going to be happy giving up my traditional summers to take classes and/or work for my co-op requirements? Uh, unless I can fulfill them all in Woods Hole, I’m not so sure how happy I will be with that….
*Perk to all the Boston area schools: close to skiing, boy, and my sports teams.
Villanova – Well, I never expected to get in. And your business school is top notch. As aforementioned, I am moderately preppy, white, and Catholic. When I first walked on your campus, I was shocked by how much I fell in love with each step. You’ve got sports, and you’ve got smarts. People have been telling me I should go here. College is my golden opportunity to travel to a new place. You’re close enough to Philly that I can find a new city to learn and love… There are people from all over the east coast here… I could go on for hours about why I should go here. And I want to finally try a cheese-steak.
BUT I don’t want to leave the people who mean a lot to me back in Massachusetts. That’s important to me.
George Washington – You have a climate that I could get used to. The people are nice. The buildings are quaint. The city is alive and new and something I have never quite experienced ever. I would love to get a chance to intern on capitol hill. I would love to wear shorts in November and March. I think we could be a good fit.
BUT it’s a little close to the Mason-Dixon line for my liking… And something in my gut is telling me no. I don’t know why.
(*Note: All these schools cost roughly about the same. A shit ton.)
I’m not quite sure which schools would equal what novelty ice creams. I think BC may be the ice cream sandwich though- safe, familiar, tasty, but not necessarily the best pick. Either way, the ice cream man is waiting to snatch my dollar and the clock is ticking. I still have no idea exactly where I should be, what to choose. Then again, it is ice cream, so how wrong can it really be?
Christ, I love ice cream.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: ice cream, laser tag, roller coaster, stadium, video, weekend, weirdnerd
Weekend Statistics (as of 01/24/10 at 8:33PM)
Time spent studying: 0 minutes
Money spent (estimated): $85 (Gas, food, event admission)
Time spent working out: 0 minutes
Time spent sleeping: 20 hours
Times I was lost: 2
Movies watched: 1 (N.O.T.O.R.I.O.U.S.)
Average Room Cleanliness Score: 4.8 out of 10
Mix CDs made: 2
Jobs applied for: 15
Scary dreams had: 1 (About my dog no less…)
Time spent on phone: 10 minutes
Text messages sent: Less than 100
Text messages received: Less than 100
Showers taken: 2
Songs downloaded: about 180
New ideas: not enough
New friends: 0
Generic Questions
Best food you ate this weekend?: Toss up between BBQ chop chicken salad at Panera or Cake Batter Ben and Jerry’s
Who did you spend the most time with this weekend?: Candace
Weirdest thing you did this weekend?: Laser Tag
Did you worry about anything?: Passing my calculus midterm
Coolest thing you participated in this weekend?: Stadium roller coaster
Something you wish you’d done?: Throw a party or go skiing
Describe your top three emotions?: 1. Silly 2. Rejected 3. Happy
Did you watch any cartoons?: Not that I remember.
Girliest thing you did this weekend?: Wore flats
Manliest thing you did this weekend?: Went to a hockey game
Most juvenile thing you did this weekend?: Played laser tag
Dumbest thing you did this weekend?: Danced to techno music in a room with blacklights
Funnest thing you did this weekend?: Drove around for hours
How was this weekend compared to last weekend?: Much better
Would you consider this weekend productive?: Nope.
Best thing that will come out of this weekend?: Ideally I would say a job at Brick House Pizza, but if that falls through, then maybe some things I did with Candace…….
Would you do it again?: Yes
Quote of the Weekend
“It is like a beach.” -Anonymous
Video of the Weekend
(0:30)
Filed under: Flash Fiction | Tags: drinking, ice cream, Martha's Vineyard, nude beaches, pirates, Woods Hole
One day I was swimming at Stony Beach when I decided that I was craving something. And that something was ice cream. I was completely overcome with my urge to eat ice cream.
So I dried off and walked back toward town.
Along the way, before I could even reach the bridge, I was stopped by a pirate.
“Argh,” he said, “We ye come find buried treasure with me? I hear there is some on the beach by the Green in Oak Bluffs!”
“Well what is in it for me?” I asked.
“I have this rum,” he replied, pulling a flask of 100 pf Captain out of his leather vest.
“I’m in!” I shouted.
The pirate led me to his moldy, old boat. We hop on and begin the ride across the sound to Martha’s Vineyard. About half way across the pirate says “uh oh.” I’m on my third shot, so I am oblivious. Oblivious to the sharks that have surrounded our skiff.
The pirate threw a back of Cheetos overboard in a last ditch attempt to get the sharks away. But sharks are too damn smart.
They began to gnaw at the bow.
I could see where this was going.
I took another shot, shouted “Nice knowing ya, bud,” and jumped onto the back of one of the sharks. Being a shark whisperer, I was able to get the shark to bring me to a floating piece of cardboard. I let go of the shark as quickly as I could- I didn’t want to deal with the shark if I didn’t have to. It swam away.
But I was stuck.
So I decide that I’ve swum drunk before and that I’ll do it again. With my flask in hand, I swim to the vineyard. Along the way, the sharks got a little close for comfort (apparently I am not as good of a whisperer when intoxicated) so I had to ditch the flask. But after two hours of swimming, I made it to the beach. Exhausted I collapsed in the sand.
When I finally woke up someone had taken off all my clothes and drawn dinosaurs (velosorpators) on me with permanent marker. Needless to say, I was pissed. But I did find my flask, still half full, laying in the sand on the beach.
Within an hour, to my amazement, people started filling the beach. And not just any people. NAKED people. But they wouldn’t come near me. It turns out I was on Gay Head Beach. But where I had been laying all day was on the non-nude side of the beach. That’s why someone had drawn on me with permanent marker. I got up and walked about twenty feet to my right and laid back down.
People started coming over in no time. I was even asked to play paddle ball with some unfortunate old men.
By the time the day was through, I had finished my flask, a few beers, and a large turkey sandwich someone had brought over from Pie in the Sky. I was even able to snag some clothes from other friendly beach neighbors. While the day seemed lucky, it didn’t end quite as nicely as I had hoped.
I had to walk fourteen miles back to Oak Bluffs in order the catch the ferry.
But the ferry was sold out. But that didn’t matter because I had no money.
And I had a sunburn.
A little bummed I couldn’t go back to sleep in my boyfriend’s cozy bed and tell him about my crazy day, I strolled down to Nancy’s, hoping to find someone to buy me dinner and a drink. Lucky for me, my Uncle Mark was there (chatting up a very pretty woman). As the sun set, we cruised across the glassy sound, not a sign of a sunken ship or shark in sight.
——-
I think I call it “Series of Weird Events in the Life of Katie.”
