I am coming to realize that I am often inspired to post while recovery from the evening before. Lucky for you lovely readers, this is not too rare an occurance and provides wonderful perving fodder. We do not, however, want our topics to be purely banal, so we will offer what I like to call “useful household tips”. At least they are useful in my household.

Yesterday Laymee and I managed a good deal of girly tasks. First task- makeover. That’s right. We went to Bloomingdales and went to my wonderful makeup genie and done did gotten our faces did up. We looked perty. So perty, in fact, that we wanted celebrate. Liquidly. And we made an AMAZING discovery. Coconut lychee martini. Yes. You read that correctly. They were truly things of beauty. And, gentle readers, in the interest of bringing you pertinent news of the booze and boys variety, we decided to take it upon ourselves to go shopping in the Asian grocery store, purchase the relevent tinned and cartoned materials. Did you know that lychees only come in heavy syrup? I didn’t either. Now I do.

So below you will find the elusive Coconut Lychee Martini. It took damn near a bottle of Stoli (consumed by yours truly) I-don’t-know-how-many bottles of persecco (consumed by Laymee) and an endless amount of patience from the wonderful neighbour/friend/bartender at my local (due to the endless amount of bullshit that came out of my mouth).

A healthy pour of stolichnaya. By healthy I mean maybe 5 or 6 counts
Half as much lychee juice
Splash of coconut milk
Touch of chambord
Lychee

Chill your martini glass. In mixer pour vodka, lychee juice, and coconut milk. Shake the hell out of it. Pour over lychee in martini glass. Pour in tiniest splash of chambord. Enjoy

Repeat until the floor spins underneath of you. Or the enourmous polish-american chatting up your best friend with weird conversation about bees looks good.

In oher news, I am finding that blogging from NJTransit is fantastic. This wordpress iPhone app is the bestest. I do have a request for the riders of NJTransit. If you are going to share the 2person seat with me, I ask you to bathe. I hate to be a stickler about this. But like maybe once this week. I know it’s the end of the workday. Hell. I know it’s the end of the workweek. But is it SO much to ask that you don’t smell of the delightful combination of urine and B.O. during rush hour? Maybe wait until the 7 pm train or something? I know that my sense of smell is far more sensitive since I quit smoking. I also know that I am far bitchier (ok, really, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it). Please though maybe next time don’t sit next to me. Kthanxbai.

I just had a near-miss there. Got on the wrong train in Penn station. Seriously. Had to get out and switch at Newark or I would have ended up in Long Beach. I could have sworn the fecking board said track 3.

Soooooo. I will use this time to catch up on other bloggers. And stay awake. And keep from puking. Godspeed. Or something.

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