So first of all, Sarah Marie finally sent me photos at like...11pm last night. And I suppose I could have updated yesterday's post but so much time had past so it seemed worthwhile to just share the photos separately.
And apparently Sarah Marie has like, a magic camera or something, because in her photos I look like a skinny NASA rocket science and not some poochy crazed loon in search of a rocket to take me home to planet Xorag and Queen Paula.
I mean - there's no point in even discussing how adorable we all are...right?
And oh - I feel compelled to mention something else that was a critical part of the evening but I failed to mention it yesterday because I was too busy thinking about Bojangles and I didn't really feel like giving you all a drink by drink rundown of the evening...Excuse me for a moment. (Hi mom. Hi dad. I am thinking that you really don't need to read the rest of this post because it's all like boring, logistical crap and a recipe for pigs in a blanket and I know you know how to make pigs in a blanket so I say just move on....)
Ok. They're gone. Where was I? Baby Guinness. Baby Guinness was like, a cornerstone to the evening. (BTW - since I don't know if the plural is Guinness or Guinni I will continue to refer to BG in the singular even though several were consumed.) And unfortunately, Baby Guinness doesn't start with an "M" and so it messes up the alliteration which another reason why I left it out - I mean Mad Libs and Martinis makes sense but Mad Libs and Martinis and Baby Guinness sounds downright stupid. But there is nothing stupid about Baby Guinness. In fact, Baby Guinness might be life-changing.
It's actually kind of a funny story. I am out a few weeks ago at an art stroll in downtown Gastonia with Karen and her amazing hubby Bruce and we stumble into this totally awesome Irish Pub, Freemans and we sit down and Karen decides to order a shot of Irish whiskey. Since she didn't specify what type, the totally charming bartender/owner asks her if she is Catholic or Protestant. She says - Catholic. And so he says: Jamesons. I ask him what he would have poured if she had said Protestant. And he says: Bushmills. Ok. No surprise there because those are like, the only 2 Irish whiskeys in the world. That anyone cares about. And then I say (because I might be the most totally charming and endearing bar patron ever), well what if you're Jewish? What kind of Irish whiskey do you pour for Jews (because, you know, there are so many of us running around downtown Gastonia hanging out in Irish pubs)? And he says - clever little fellow - Baby Guinness. And then he gives me a look that only a totally charming bartender/owner of a kick-ass Irish pub can give and suddenly I realize I have no choice in the matter. Baby Guinness and I are clearly about to be introduced.
And when we meet? Why it's love at first sight.
And so as it turns out, Baby Guinness is neither a baby nor a Guinness. Nor is it Jewish or whiskey. It's actually a shot of Patron XO Cafe (which is a coffee infused tequila) with a Bailey's floater on top. And it's insanely good. Had I not been driving home that night I might have done something really irresponsible like ask Baby Guinness to move in with me and be the father to my Jewish-Irish-Mexican babies.
And it wasn't just me. I was not the only one to begin this torrid love affair with Baby Guinness. Bruce and Karen were both equally smitten as well and so when we arrived at Karen's the other night for Mad Libs and Martinis, what should we see on the counter? Why...
Hello old lover!
So yes. Baby Guinness gave Mr. Blue Velvet Bikini a run for his money on Thursday and I might move to Ireland (but only after a stop off in Canada), although come to think of it, I'd probably have to move to Mexico, wouldn't I?
Oh...and in case mom and dad are actually reading this (or any of you give a crap)...
Pigs in a Blanket:
Take a bunch of mini cocktail weenies, wrap them in some pre-made Pillsbury crescent roll dough, stick them in the oven for 15 minutes at 375 until golden brown and puffy and serve with ketchup.
Because, you know, nothing goes better with Irish whiskey for Jews than pork.
And if that ain't country, I'll kiss your...
5 hours ago