*ALSO* I had to add this – Thanks, Megi

I mean, seriously.  I have this newfound (this is one word, isn’t it?  The Mac doesn’t seem to think so) respect and actual desire for the southern accent.  And I have not seen anything remotely nomable as of yet.  I mean, I will say this – there are some Texans with amazing eyes.  Male, female, I mean, I’ve seen a few that are nothing short of remarkable.

This. Perfect example of what I was looking forward to in Texas.

I have thus far seen eyes of this caliber walking around in a few women.  Much to my ex boyfriend’s disappointment, this does nothing for me.

I have 2 days more in Texas, though.  We’ll be on alert.  Not to worry.

ORLY?!?!? Which design genius thought up this phallic chef d'ouevre?!

In closing, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I call out to you: “Texas, bring it.”

Your food?  Absolutely FABULOUS.  Snow’s BBQ. If you live within 400 miles of Lexington, TX and you have not been then you should have your Texas citizenship (practically another country down there) revoked.  Honestly.  I will be dreaming about this meat.  I am comforted in the knowledge that they deliver around the country.  Today, we are off to sample something called “migas.”  I have no idea at all what this means.  Laymee is nearly vibrating with enthusiasm, so we’re going to pick up and go for “migas.” Pardon me while I mosey.

Rest easy, gentle readers, I am not blogging and driving. Safety first of course. I am riding copilot on our way back to Austin and a night of debauchery.

I leave you with this: this trip will be documented. Stay tuned for more. Also, if someone could please explain to me the Texan fascination with red shagging pick up trucks that would be great. Kthanxbai. Irish in da dirty South, over and out.

I am back. I didn’t post while away, I’m terribly sorry. For this reason, please allow me to rant.

I hate MOTHERFUCKING AT&T.

Here’s the situation. I was an AT&T customer for years (back when it was Cingular, then AT&T – it may or may not have been AT&T first, but sure, I can’t remember…). Their customer service was horrid. I mean EVERY MONTH for the last year of my contract I had a problem with the bill. Random numbers (to and from Brazil?! My Portuguese is nonexistent), charges, and just very abrasive CS reps. Awful. So finally, I switched to Tmobile. Choosing them was primarily a decision based on their international rates, both while in the US and while abroad. You see, this may not have been clear earlier, but I do a fair bit of traveling.

All was well and good for several years. Then the iPhone was introduced. And motherfucking AT&T holds the monopoly on their service. Well, I held out. For 2 years. And this year, as my 2nd Blackberry died, I figured, why the hell not.

Well, I’ll tell you why the hell not. They charge OUT THE ASS for Data Roaming. Seriously. It was fecking INSANE what they wanted to charge me. 20G for 29.99? Have you ANY IDEA the amount of EMAILS alone that I receive on this bloody thing?

Not to mention that everyone in Dublin seems to be stingy with their Wifi (what, I can’t steal service from you? AW, C’MOOOOON!!!!). So, my work was lagging, my blogging was nonexistent, and I believe that Laymee and I nearly had to be committed due to separation anxiety.

I should also make clear that on a personal note, I cannot seem to focus at ALL lately.  Everything I can do to keep on top of work!!

But here we go. A little of Ireland for you.

First pint on Irish soil for this trip. It's a tradition, always in the Dublin airport. As this is not just a tradition for yours truly, I honestly believe the airport has one of the best pints in Dublin; they go though the stuff like mad. Frequently poured = Fresh Guinness.

So back to the matter at hand.  Have any of you seen this chef d’oeuvre?

Yes, I can give you a moment.  Sweet baby Jesus, I certainly needed one.

There is some business we have to discuss. Jordan, I am woman enough to admit that I have a nearly less than platonic hard on for you.  Laymee has professed her “admiration” for yourgoodself, and we applaud you.  In offering, allow me to present this:

This, I'm sure, has some significance to you, Jordan, and so, enjoy.

Which brings us to why we fancy clever-types such as our blogcrush over there.  Wit.  Ladies, if a fella can make me laugh, he already has a foot in the door.  Which leads us to the obvious progression that almost anything else he wishes can follow.

When I used to smoke, my choice was Kamel Red Lights. Because they were yummy and a gentleman friend of mine taught me how to smoke and that was his choice and that’s how this happens, right? One is somewhat grandfathered in, taught by one who knows, and that’s it. Why did I flip one? Because he did. Makes total sense. I don’t smoke anymore (and really only did off and on for a few years), but I have always been drawn to the fetish of it. I like the look of it, I love the accoutrement and habit of the whole thing, and I really really don’t mind the smell and taste. I consider it a key part of my pool game, whenever I can find a table that actually allows for it. I swear when I have a pool table at home, smoking will be REQUIRED. Like, there’ll be a cigarette candle on repeat.

From what I’ve learned about other smokers, one is loyal to one’s brand. You make allowances dependent upon finances and sobriety but in general you won’t have a lot of Winston folks jumping ship for Lucky Strike. However, this pic makes me reconsider my firm stand against Marlboro Lights.

And the open mouth doesn’t hurt his case either.

(edited by effbit to say OH HELL YEAH.  I have been off the fags for TWENTY….count them TWENTY weeks and this is not helping in the least.  For the curious, yes, I smoked Marlboro Lights – both in America and in Ireland, because I was definitely brand loyal.  I salivate now while thinking about it – WHY is it that my cravings have gotten worse after the 3rd month?!  This shit is SO fucking unfair.

Here, I know you always like a smoke after teh sex, let me light one for you......

Jesus.  I will post tomorrow.  I am in too weak-kneed/willed a state to fucking manage this right now….gaaaaah.)

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.

Effbit, you called?

Laymee and I went to a very early dinner, and then imbibed (as we are want to do) on beer.  And wine.  Then, an hour before the screening, we meandered over to the cinema and planted our arses in the frontish (no other seats.)  I think I need a deep tissue massage today – old lady-types need at least the midsection of the theatre.  So today I am still mentally replaying scenes. I enjoyed the film, but, as Laymee and I discussed post-screening, I can see it being difficult to follow for someone who hadn’t read the books. And yes, we watched the other 5.  It’s amazing how different they are, and how, IMHO, Hermione pisses me off.  Even in this one.  I can’t even put my finger on it. Personally I think they should have worked on build-up to key points in the book. Like, say, maybe, the discovery of the HBP – the audience wasn’t even led to give a shit about who it was. Just that dude had some old book. And then at the end, when Snape announces “yeah, like, those spells? Yeah. That’s mine. Cuz I’m the Half Blood Prince. Word (quite literally ‘to your mother’).” And Ginny? We ALWAYS knew she got around. She’s my kinda girl. And yeah, hate me if you need to, but I don’t think she ages well! And’s she’s what, 18? This doesn’t bode well….All that being said, I walked away, still a little squee, and still feeling SO MUCH BETTER about Number 6 than I was after Number 5. Cuz Order of the Phoenix was not satisfying AT ALL  And while I can ALWAYS USE more Snape, i felt that he had considerably more face/voice time than he has in previous films…about time, really.

And segway to our cross-over

I think, though, that I have to revisit my other tween obsession.  Twilight has been sorely neglected, I feel.  I’ve been walking around daydreaming about some of this all day.  So it only stands to reason that I post it to share with you ladies.  Also, while I’m not one to beg for comments, reviews, or even validation – trust me, I’m retarded enough that I would prattle on to a mirror and feel just fine about it – we haven’t had one comment since Jenny Jerkface from www.twitarded.com on our very first post – so I’m a little nervous if others are actually ABLE to! (We see you, we know you’re reading!)

For a little while, Laymee is coming back to visit, so, and please, pay attention, not only will we be in the same state again but we will be in the same state at the same time as Rpattz and Alan Rickman (wait, he will be here through the weekend, won’t he? I mean, it’s NYC, forchristsake). This may be problematic, as, dear readers, very few people outside our circle of “two” know about our…um….hobby. And those few people would be unwilling to post bail, if we were to, say, approach either of these very polite and respectful men with services of the questionable variety. So yeah, please keep your eyes peeled on all fangirl blogs for the next week and a half or so for pictures of 2 stunning and eloquently spoken women pleading their case in NY1 interviews as most certainly NOT prostitutes. While we are not those fancunts of tacky fame (dem bitches have BAD hair and please. Abercrombie. As if. Ahem.) it is a distinct possibility that we may celebrate Laymee’s return to our fair city and run into a booze-appreciative-minding gentleman of nom variety and let loose with the offers.

Oh, Jackson? You want to meet us for a pint, what? Well SURE! Weather will be GORGEOUS this weekend, no need for that leather hat. Or wear it, but forfeit your shirt. Would hate for you to overheat...

So this is going to be a jam-packed little while and we’re hoping that good things can come from this blog while we are in one place. Again, I’m all childish giddy. So much so that I have to distract myself with going to Bruno this evening and having a jar or two after.

Now. Stuart Townsend. Oh Stuart Townsend. Today I saw you, Stewie (I can call you that, right?) in “Queen of the Damned”. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “Don’t judge, Effbit”. And yes. You have a point. But we both know that that’s not going to happen. I judge, that’s what I do. Please let me relay what little I’ve learned since my undead curiosity has been reignited by Twilight.

Stuart. Vampires don't wear skirts, silly. They sparkle.

I have NO IDEA why I love this badly written series. I LOVE THE MENS, though. OH, nomability factor is HIGH in the film. And deep down, I am actually a romantic. A masochistic idealist. Ridiculous, isn’t it? This vampire thing is FANTASTIC fodder for nomness as vampires are all about sex. I don’t care what you say, unless you’re mormon, you KNOW they scream the sex. Silently. With their eyes.