Friday, December 31, 2010

Happy, Happy, Party People!


The food has been cleared, the house spiffied back up, and the houseboys woken and shipped back to MJ wrapped in fur and silk and bearing her gifts of booze and candy as a thank you.

Hope everyone had a great time, and kudos to Boxer for birthing this marvelous virtual soiree into being and to everyone who played along.

BTW, there's still time to play the Guess the Dish Game (scroll all the way to the bottom), so email your answers to Boxer by noon Eastern today for your chance to win a $50 donation to your favorite charity.

Then head over to Eggplant to Go for a fabulous New Year's Day Brunch. Mmmmm . . . bacon.

Peace, joy, and love to you all.

* * *

Dinner at 6pm, courtesy Elie Saab.

Cocktails at 4 outfit:

In honor of the late, great, Alexander McQueen.

* * *

Daylight hours outfit:

From Rodarte's Fall 2010 collection, because, baby, it's cold outside.

* * *

What was I thinking? I nearly forgot the Official Boxer NYE Cocktail? Sheesh. Color Moi forgetful. I guess it's cocktail hour somewhere, right? Right. Drink up, people. You have nothing to lose but your tongue:

Official Cocktail of Boxer's 2010 NYE Soiree:
Inspired by my dinner with La Diva back in April:

Pisco Sour:
Lemon Juice
Egg white
All shaken with ice and Angostura bitters

Other libations: Full bar. Name your poison.

To learn how to make an awesome garland like this,
head on over to Chickory's place.

Alrighty, then, let's get this party started. Remember, Boxer's Place is Command Central, so make sure you drop by there several times a day to check out her latest going's on (games and prizes!) and to drop a comment into her comment box. For every comment she receives during this 36-hour fete, she'll donate 50 cents to her favorite charity. Other bloggers are also hosting food and fun, so make the rounds, why don't cha!

* * *

New Year's Eve Blog Party Menu:

This is a nibbling menu designed so that no one has to walk around trying to balance a plate of food, utensils, and their drink. Instead, a few of MJ's houseboys will be around with trays to serve. SUCH nice houseboys; thanks, MJ!

Skewers of pickled banana peppers and Cantabrian anchovies
Avocado halves stuffed with paprika-dusted shredded crab
Shrimp and chickpea flour fritters with romesco

Wild boar chorizo sausage sliders with grilled radicchio and chipotle mayonnaise
Pork chicharrones with chimichurri dipping sauce
Beef tenderloin and roasted garlic clove kabobs with tequila/chile/mustard dipping sauce

Canapes of caramelized onion and Mahon cheese
Cilantro/pecan pesto tamales
Grilled eggplant, sun dried tomato, and mozzarella roll ups
Platter of assorted olives, peppers, cheeses, crisp breads, and crackers

El Chippo and Dippo
Pico de Gallo
Chile con queso
Cool Ranch Doritos

Chocolate mousse shots
Tres leches petite fours
Fresh D'Anjou pear slices with caramel dipping sauce

* * *

Guess the Dish Party Game:

Guess the correct dish for all eight dishes below based on three of their ingredients and send your answers and your favorite charity in an email to Boxer at

Everyone who correctly guesses all eight dishes is qualified to win a $50 donation from Moi to their favorite charity, matched by a $50 donation to my favorite charity, New Day, a private, non-profit Albuquerque-based organization that provides emergency and long-term shelter, counseling, educational services, and life skills training to children aged 11-17 whose parents have dropped the ball on their care.

If no one guesses all eight dishes correctly, then we'll chose from among the first five received with the most correct answers. All correct (or nearly correct) names will be put in a hat and drawn the old-fashioned way. Good luck and party safely!

Guess the Dish:

Pasilla Chiles
Ground corn tortillas

Rice noodles

Spaghetti Noodles

Bottom round
Red vinegar
Juniper berries

Worchestershire sauce

Curry powder

Choclate cake
Whipped cream

Sponge cake
Ice cream
Egg whites

* * *

Thursday, December 30, 2010

It's a Party, Party People!

What are you going this New Year's Eve? Whatever it is, I hope you have plans to join us even briefly in this interactive, blog-wide party that encompasses two days, a good two-dozen blogs, games, food, drink, fabulous prizes, and oodles of money being raised for worthy causes all over the continent.

The brainchild of Miss Boxer, the party begins at midnight Eastern tonight and lasts until some time on January 1st of 2011. Boxer's blog serves as the main host station, with other bloggers co-hosting different party rooms with food, drink, games, and craft projects. Still other bloggers will simply hop around visiting, wearing and saying inappropriate, I mean, terribly witty and fashionable, things.

Why, yes, this ribbon IS Prada; why do you ask?

This blog will serve as the main Food and Drink Station (whose menu I will post starting in the morning), and will feature service by three of Mistress MJ's houseboys, which she has so, so graciously loaned Moi for the occasion.

I am also hosting a Culinary Guessing Game (which I will also post starting in the morning) that will earn the first person to correctly guess the most dishes a $50 donation from Moi to their favorite charity, matched by a $50 donation to my favorite charity, New Day, a private, non-profit Albuquerque-based organization that provides emergency and long-term shelter, counseling, educational services, and life skills training to children aged 11-17 whose parents have dropped the ball on their care.

Already, two of Moi's blog homies—Chickory and Troll—have posted fun and games at their sites, so if you haven't already visited them, why don't you get a head start and beat the rush?

Stay tuned to this page for more info as the event progresses.

Now excuse me. I need to go plan my outfit.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Favorite Foreign Actress

I have a huge girl crush on Penelope Cruz. In fact, #245 on my Wish List to Present to St. Peter: drop me back down to earth to spend at least 24 hours inhabiting her skin. Also: the fact that she is married to Javier Bardem is proof positive that sometimes the stars do align perfectly in this jumbled mess of a universe. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie? Pfffft. Milquetoast in comparison to the muy caliente that is these two together.

This clip is from one of my favorite movies of the past several years, Vicky Christina Barcelona. As Penelope would say: Jean-iohs.

Pop on over to , Milk River Madman's place for more Fave Fern' Actresses:

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Random Post-Holiday Musings

On the last day of Christmas, my true love gave to me:

How awesome is that brand and name?
Notes of rose, patchouli, and vanilla.
Mmmmm . . . I smell like Four and Twenty Hippies Baked in a Pie.

* * *

It is indeed possible to over cook a prime rib roast and have it still be juicy, tender, and delicious.
Provided people like you enough and are thoroughly sauced themselves.

* * *

The inimitable Boxer is hosting a two-day
New Year's Eve party over at her place.
Drop on by to RSVP and join in on what promises to be an interactive Internet fete on par with the lunacy that was Squirrel Wars 2008.
(P.S. Do we have a badge for this yet?)

Monday, December 27, 2010

Haiku Mondays: Christian(ity)

cruising little sis
incites lyrical debate:
motorin' or ran?

* * *

Can you name the song?

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Merry Christmas

My days are merry and bright year round, thanks to each and every one of you. Enjoy the season and I hope Santa brings you at least one thing your heart truly desires.

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Favorite Christmas Movie

I'm sorry, but I'm a sucker for Christmas. Everything about it makes me warm and fuzzy-feeling and not just because of the presents. Or the egg nog. Or the party shoes. Or the tree with the blinky lights or that it celebrates the birthday of one of the most influential human beings ever born on earth. Even if you don't believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God and savior of man, you must admit, no one else packs quite the same historical, cultural, and sociological punch.

What I like most about the holidays is that people are so nice to each other. I haven't gone anywhere in the past several weeks where someone hasn't thanked me profusely for my patronage and followed that up with a hearty Merry Christmas. Okay, so it can all be a little commercial and overwhelming, and yeah, yeah, we should be nice to each other all the time, blah, blah, blah, but still. I think I'll surf the wave of this general goodwill for however long it lasts and damn the cynicism.

Naturally, I also love Christmas movies, and was trying to decide which movie to post for this meme (the original B&W A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sim or Bad Santa), when a brightly wrapped package arrived from the PNW this afternoon, inside of which Boxer had placed, amid a couple other rockin' goodies, a copy of this:

Well, now. Christmas movies just don't get any better—or whack-ass crazy—than this. If you haven't seen it, rent it now. It's worth whatever price they're charging just for the thrill of watching and hearing Grace Jones disco-fy "The Little Drummer Boy."

Totally. Awesome.

Thank you, Boxer. Mmmmmmmmwah.

To see what other holiday movies are spreading goodwill to humankind, hop on over to our host with the most, Milk River Madman:

Monday, December 20, 2010

Haiku Mondays: Games

five days in Denmark
slapped with sleet and chill, we played
bored game marathon

* * *

Haiku Mondays is a weekly meme hosted by the Troll Stroll. Head on over for the skinny and your chance to win a fabulous Chickory-designed haiku badge of honor and fabulous (any day now) prizes.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Ambient Sunday

Inspired by Milk River Madman, who reminded me it's a been a long time since I've blown the dust off my Cowboy Junkies CDs, and Czar, who is forever searching for non-invasive background working music. This probably isn't it, but damn, has there ever been a pop music voice as lull-a-bye lush as Margo Timmins's?

Friday, December 17, 2010

Five Minutes Later

S.B. and I were up at dawn in anticipation of crawling the Jeep the three miles to the trail head with the dogs in tow. It's important to me to be first out on the trail after a snowfall so I can break it with snowshoes. People who break trail with just their feet don't realize that what they're doing is dangerous. They create holes that deepen and solidify in the subsequent freeze/thaw cycles, making it nearly impossible to hike, much less run, along a trail without breaking an ankle. What really pisses me off, are the folks that then take their horses in. Not smart.

But the real reason I like to get out first thing in the morning after a huge snowfall is that the world is a completely different place. It's like being on another planet. All sound is blanket muffled and words stop short at the tip of your tongue. Color is drained and space is reduced to two dimensions. Eyes form ghost images against sheets of white and silvery grey, and sometimes it's even difficult to tell up from down. A Rocky Mountain "high" if ever there was one.

From the house, looking south. There's a mountain there, somewhere.

Icicles on the pool pump house. Won't be swimming for a while . . .

The bar is always open at Snow White's Freakin' Wilderness Sanctuary.

Chilly chiles. And a welcome hit of color.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Most Overrated Movie Ev-ah

It's hard to believe that the man who made the original Terminator (a terrific, heart-racing piece of low budget sci-fi), very quickly went on to establish himself as Hollyweird's king of over bloated, over budgeted, yawn inducing blockbusters. I hate everything about Avatar with a passion so white hot that if I could, I would shoot it to bits with every piece of weaponry in my arsenal, then I'd stab it with my stilettos, chop off its head, and feed it to the wolves.

The movie's a veritable Frankensteinian construct of clumsily pieced together Native American symbolism, New Age environmentalist hoo-hah, and embarassingly cookie cutter characters (although, that Australian dude, Sam Whatever, can return my phone calls), all filtered through sensibilities so libertarded, they make Sean Pean look like Barry Goldwater. Just looking for a clip of it on You Tube made my breakfast come up, but the spoofs, like the one above, are awesome.

So, if you want to play along, drop by the blog of our ever-faithful host, Milk River Madman, to see who else is playing this week:

Monday, December 13, 2010

Haiku Mondays: FLIGHT

Fifteen minutes later, I gave her a sip of my tequila
and all was well with the world.

Señor Troll has moved his haiku competition to Mondays. If you want to give it a go, or at least check in and read the entries of the competitors (they're fierce!), head over to his place. There aren't many rules, but if you win, you get to post a fabulous Chickory-designed badge of haiku-winning honor on your blog (or your forehead or chest), and Troll swears there are fabulous prizes a'coming, too.

Today's Theme is FLIGHT.

The sound of twenty
Kenyans churning desert earth
To talcum mist? Whoosh.

Forget carry on.
I’m trying to figure out
Where to stow my legs.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Haiku Thursdays: Beverage

mated bliss on this
depends: humor, ignore, two
shots daily Cuervo

* * *

If you want to participate, head over to the Troll Stroll and submit your best 5-7-5 for the chance to win fabulous prizes.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Favorite Detective Movie

Dear God,

In my next life, please send me back as Faye Dunaway in The Thomas Crowne Affair.

That is all.


Sexy, stylish, suspenseful, and smart.

Drop by the blog of our ever-faithful host, Milk River Madman, to see who else is playing this week:

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Not Gonna Pay

Sorry, folks. No can post on the season finale of The Walking Dead.

When I first heard of this show, I was disappointed that I couldn't see it because the particular satellite television provider we subscribe to does not provide AMC as part of their basic 120-channel package. Which is what we subscribe to. Because, seriously. One hundred and twenty channels is sick enough, right? I have things to DO.

Anyway, when S.B. got home a few weeks ago, he was flipping through the channels in that way compelled by his DNA, and he discovered, lo and behold, that we do indeed get AMC. Huh. Go figure. We must have missed it when we were setting our Favorites listing.

No such luck. Actually, it was a four-week-long promotion, cleverly designed to HOOK US INTO The Walking Dead and then pull the rug out from under us two days before the finale so we part with another gazillion dollars a month just to get their stupid ass America's Top 200 channels.

After power struggling with our provider for about 10 minutes over the phone, in which I called their tactics dirty pool and threatened all manner of righteously indignant pissed off customer consequences, I gave up and resolved that as much as I love this show, I'd just have to catch the finale on-line sometime next week. Feck them. I'm not giving in.

So talk amongst yourselves, but don't tell me what happens, 'kay?

Friday, December 3, 2010

Affection Ignorant of Fault

It's been approximately 18 months, two weeks, four days, and a couple hours since we rescued our little Border Collie, Maddie, from the chopping block. And I don't think she's yet finished revealing all her neurosis.

I've never been much of a fan of the herding breeds. Their pendulums tend to swing either too standoffish or too obsequious. They slink. They cower. They eyeball you from across the room. They con and cajole and bargain. They plan. I'm used to dogs that wear their hearts and their zest for life on their sleeves. Dogs that live in the now, that approach life in a straightforward manner, that are easy to figure out and easy to train. Pit bulls, for instance. Also, Labrador Retrievers, Rottweilers, Dobies. You know, the frat boys of the dog world. Not the tortured artists.

Maddie, she is such the Van Gogh. Drama is her middle name. Although she can certainly beat you to the ignore when she wants to.

Her list of fears are legion: kids, cameras, bicycles, fly swatters, water, gunshots, thunder, the crinkle of the bread bag (but not aluminum foil).

Then there are things she will fearlessly stalk down and attack with a grim determination that makes Ivan look ADD: Birds, squirrels, mice, lizards, chipmunks, and automobiles (unless you stick your head out the window and glower at her so that she knows you are part of the machine and have not actually been eaten up by it.)

Then there are the "behaviors." Whereas Ivan gladly gobbles up his dinner each and every day, twice a day, Maddie is another story. I've never seen a dog carefully suck the soft food off the hard bits, meticulously spit them onto the floor next to the bowl, and then refuse to finish her meal until you scoop up all the discarded bits and place them back into the bowl.

She also refuses to sleep with us in the bed. Not that I want her to, but she won't even get up when invited. Not until the next morning when it's time to wake up, and then she'll jump on the bed and make a nuisance of herself. But she does sleep with the babysitter and her husband.

Also, she regularly walks backwards. Not sideways and not just for a few steps. But full on backwards for multiple feet at a time. I know dogs can do this, but I've never seen them do it in quite the way she does. Ivan, for instance, if he reaches an obstacle, he either tries to go through it, go around it, or wait for someone to remove it. Not Maddie. She walks herself backwards with a precision and grace that's kind of like that scene in the Exorcist when Linda Blair spins her head all the way around: fascinating and yet utterly freaky at the same time.

Which I guess is really the best way to describe her. Freaky. But I've decided to love her anyway.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Recent Junk Shop Finds

A chenille musician elf from the 1950s. She flirts at the edge of weird.

Miniature manger. I love the little lambs.

Part of a package of twelve vintage ornaments, the one on the right was the odd ball out.

Sweet lil' blue birdie.

Bling for the wrist and upper arm.

I had to have it for the cap alone.

Two bombshell orientals for the price of one.

Tell Moi: Do you junk, too?

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Pot Meet Kettle

Dear King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia,

I've been following with some amusement these WikiLeak releases of U.S. diplomatic cables in which you and your buddies repeatedly urge us to attack Iran in order to destroy its nuclear weapons program.

You all have been mighty vocal in your across-the-board opinion that Iran's leadership is evil, an existential threat, and will only lead us into a wider war in the region. The only way to stop this threat, you believe, is to cut off the head of the snake, by which I assume you mean Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

Look, I agree with you. As far as Ahmadinejad is concerned, the fact that 1982 keeps calling to ask for its Members Only jacket back can only mean one thing, and it's not stability of mind. Then again, look at you guys. All that bulk around the middle? Not flattering.

Still, how about a little quid pro quo, here? We'll give you Ahmadie if you give us your boy.


Monday, November 29, 2010

Bow Down Before the One You Serve

So we finally get to the meat of it. The conflict that I've been waiting for, and the main reason why I'm a fan of apocalyptic tales: when things fall apart, who puts them back together again? Or, as several of last night's characters bottom-lined it: who's in charge, here?

The show opens during the morning after the fish fry zombie attack, where the living are faced with the important question of what to do with the dead. The zombies, they burn, but what about the former camp members who bit the dust? Obviously, their brains must be scrambled first (no reanimation allowed!), but then do they deserve a proper burial or should they, too, become part of the funeral pyre?

Concurrently, Andrea continues to keep vigil over her zombie-victim sister, Amy, in a series of scenes that finally manage to find the right note of tension, horror, and pathos. I found myself feeling sorry for the gal.

Still, let's be honest here; the show's female characters are nowhere near as strong or interesting as its male. Apparently, in the apocalypse? It's a man's world, too, and so the question of who's in charge comes down to the show's two alpha males: Sheriff Rick and Deputy Shane. Rick is just trying to do the right thing. Shane wants to be the boy with the most cake. So far, the jury's been out on Shane's potential to slip into good guy or bad guy territory, and even the scene in the forest where he holds Rick in the sights of his gun doesn't lead us to a verdict one way or the other. We could take it as either wishful thinking or practice for a future act.

In the end, however, Rick's plan wins out. The group decides to take his advice and head back into the heart of darkness, or in this case, the CDC, smack in the middle of Atlanta. Which is manned by a lone scientist who just may or may not be slightly mad.

Good stuff all the way around . . .

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Today is a Birthday

Dear Chickory,

Moi called me up and asked me to come over here and wish you a splendid birthday, filled with everything you could ever want for a day of perfect happiness. So, just tell me what that is and I'll hunt it down for you.

Love, Burt

* * *

Cheers, chica, and thank you for making my life infinitely richer and more profound. If the NGMLF ever needs 'em, you can count on my pistols and my pesos.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Fall Dawn #2

16 degrees F at 7:03am. Wind chill, below zero.
At least it's a dry cold.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Bounty, Grace, and Joy

Happy Thanksgiving to all my Blog Homies
Mmmmmm . . . Wah

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Favorite Sports Mov--



Oh, for craps sake, STOP IT! I'm not going to write Rudy, no matter how many gosh darn times you grab at my keyboard or run around the house chanting Rudy! Rudy! Rudy! at the top of your lungs and making the dogs all barky. And NO, you can't bribe me with candy, perfume, or whatever. Now, go away. This is my blog. Mine.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Oye, Vatos

Show taught some lessons, homes:

1. Don't mess with the Cholos.
2. Don't mess with the Cholos' abuelas.

In my experience, few things in life are badder ass or tighter knit than a band of Mexicans. Hita and hito could go on a killing spree that makes Jeffry Dahmer look like an anorexic and family will fly in from corners of the universe you didn't know existed to spin a web of support so co-dependent, law enforcement is exhausted before they even start the paperwork.

Which is why I would have loved to have seen direct, hand-to-hand combat between the zombies and Guillermo and his gang. But, as it turns out, Guillermo is a bad ass with a heart, three trembling chihuahuas, and the Herculean task of just trying to do the right thing for all the old folks that were left behind when the zombies came a munchin' (what, zombies don't like old people?) Still, it was an effectively emotional sequence, one of the few of the entire evening.

Let's run down the clunkers and the highlights:


The opening fishing scene between sisters Amy and Andrea dripped with the kind of soapy emotion that gives me goosebumps in a bad way, until a light bulb went off in my head and I was all, ruh roh. This must mean one of these two chicas is gonna bite it. Goody.

The whole Jim-goes-crazy-with-the-hole-digging sequence seemed strangely flat to me, especially given what it ended up portending. If the zombie apocalypse actually produced a psychic or two, then they're going to have to be more compelling than dwoopy Jim.

Where was Lourdes? Mexican men, for all their machismo, are rarely without their bitches. This show suffers from a decided lack of interesting female characters and I would have loved to see a couple cholas with their eyeliner and hair poofs fixing Daryl with the ol' el ojo.


Sheriff Rick gets his guns and his hat back, thus completing his hot-man-of-principle-and-action persona.

Zombie fish fry. Truly scary stuff with gore flinging galore. Plus, Irritating Amy bites it.

Which of course, begs the question, who will have the courage to chop her head off? Where now for our merry band of survivors? Stay? Go? And, most importantly, where the heck is Merle?

Saturday, November 20, 2010

All Over, No Crying

Wait . . . what?

Dear Johnny Depp,

I regret to inform you that effective immediately, your position as one of Moi's Long-time Movie Star Crushes has been terminated.

Let's face it; it's been some time coming, now. But the last straw was last week when, during a press junket to push that lame-o-looking new movie you have coming out with Angelina Jolie, you called your co-star a, "walking poem."

Johnny, the answer we were going for here was something along the lines of, "Nice gal." Even "totally hot," "boobalicious," or, "I'd hit that if neither of us were married," would have been perfectly acceptable. Because at least then you would have been thinking with your Hooter's Brain, and we all know that when men think with their Hooter's Brain, they're not really thinking at all. Those ancient genetic imperatives can be a bitch, but they're essentially forgivable 84.67 percent of the time.

"Walking poem," however, is pure Girl Brain thinking. And when a man enters Girl Brain territory, he's thinking more than just nookie. He's thinking the kind of feelings that eventually lead to picking out china patterns and dreaming about where to send the kids to school. If I were your wife, I'd be all, "Good. You can just go eat those poetic words, because this kitchen is closed."

Even if you're not married, dude, Girl Brain thinking is rarely attractive, whether in public or in private. What it usually ends up doing is making you look like a dweeb, the kind of man-child who, at 45, has yet to grok to what most men figure out by the time they hit 30, and that is most women really only want to hear three things coming from a man's mouth:

1. "Yours is the sexiest ass to ever grace a pair of jeans in the history of the universe, ever."

2. "Mmmm . . . honey, that dinner was the best."

3. "Don't worry, I already did the dishes (mopped the floors/cleaned the garage/took out the trash/mowed the lawn/put gas in the car.)"

Plus, Johnny, you are beginning to look an awful lot like like Jack White. A look that only works if, well, you actually are Jack White.


Thursday, November 18, 2010

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Movie Clip Wednesdays: Most Sucky Sequel Evah

Hands down, Transporter 3. Which I hate with a white hot passion so white hot, it doesn't even matter how many times Jason Statham takes off his shirt, and believe me, if there's one thing that can make me perk up during a sleepy action flick, it's Jason Stratham taking off his shirt.

Unless he's doing so at the command of one of the most annoying female leads to ever pout her way through a B-Movie. Look, the first Transporter was by no means high or even medium cinematic art. But it was good dumb fun and featured enough shirt-taking off and other hair-raising action to keep things interesting. The second one? Not so much, but it didn't make me want to throw Cheetos at the screen, either.

But this is just horrifying. And embarrassing. And so not sexy. Where did the producers find this broad? Some kind of discount clearing house for all the heroin-cheeked East European models that Marc Jacobs didn't hire?

It's no small accident perhaps that You Tube has disabled embedding by request. But if you want to cringe and weep, then click here. And then join me as I mentally riddle this little red-headed twerpette with a slew of virtual bullets.

Then help everyone else do the same: