In college, we used to call this mixture a "Skippie". They were usually served at the same parties that had Jungle Juice. Oh, those were the days...
Another question: Am I supposed to pause to mix the water in? Do I keep a little water dish by the bedside to whip this shit up? So confused by the logistics.
John Dalys are awesome. If your margarita is too sweet, somebody made it woefully wrong. It bothers the shit out of me that you have to pay over $10 for a drink made right. Especially down here in the land of citrus. Sour Mix should not be ANYWHERE in a bar. Even your home bar. I've been making my own hard lemonades this summer. Mike's is terrible. How do you fuck up 4 ingredients (vodka, soda water, lemons, sugar)? The thing now is to mix IPA or Hefeweizens into cocktails. Saw a grapefruit cocktail topped with an over-hopped California IPA. Seems interesting enough.
They are similar. I'm a big fan of Arnold Palmers. Drinks are always better when mixed in a tub. We called them a "Strip and Go Naked."
My brother called it pink panty pull down, we called it crack juice. Case of beer, handle of vodka, one of those country time lemonade powder cans. It never usually took the panties off in the fashion you'd hoped. Mostly, "Hey dude I think Caitlin pissed herself, she's on the balcony with her panties around her ankles puking off the side."
If I remember correctly our recipe was 2 normal sized containers of powdered country-time pink lemonade mix, a liter or two of Sprite, a thirty pack of light beer, and a fifth of Everclear. It ends up being almost tasteless. Dangerous stuff. We would use vodka if we wanted to tone it down.
Oh Skip and Go Naked's, the refined drinker's answer to Jungle Juice (or Hairy Buffalo if you preferred your drinks to sound like ghetto swill with hairs floating in it.) Those parties usually ended in awesome fashion. In the NOT awesome realm...my company's temporary office space shares a floor with a tangentially affiliated company. Working for said company is an extremely cute, mousey brunette that I have engaged in a significant amount of playful eye flirting, smiles, and ever classy furtive glances in the 3 weeks we've been here. It got to the point where I was debating going out on a limb and inviting her to a party this weekend. Then this morning, in the kitchen, I overheard her excitedly telling a coworker how she has been listening to the new Justin Bieber cd alot and, I quote, "Its honestly one of the best CDs ive heard in the last decade, start to finish." Yeah, I may be directing those furtive glances elsewhere towards someone with a bit less moron inhabiting their brainspace.
Even with concoctions like this someone would STILL bring Jager for shots. Im surprised more college students don't die every year binge drinking this shit.
In the same vein, our parent company upstairs hired a new receptionist about two weeks ago. Very cute, nice ass (because I subscribe to Sir Mix A'Lot's newsletter). However, apparently I'm supposed to go right upstairs and whip my dick out, because all my friends in the office have been asking me if I've talked to the new receptionist with a wink and a smile. The other day I went upstairs to grab some mail and was just making conversation. One of the girls who works upstairs came in for the same reason, saw us talking, gave me this big conspiratorial smile, and quickly left. Good lord people. Ok, and maybe I did get her number to go grab a drink, but I still maintain it's discrimination.
Seriously? You won't invite a cute girl to a party because she listens to Justin Bieber? Listen, if I dismissed girls solely due to their choice of music, I would've never gotten laid. Sometimes girls like stupid girl music. That "Call Me Maybe" bullshit? Fiance fucking loves it. Am I taking the ring back? No. If you think the girl is cute, don't let something retarded like "But...she likz tha Beebs" get in the way of that. Plow through that shit. Plow through it with your dick.
I repped him with something similar. Who gives a shit? Unless she wants to play the CD as you're doing the deed, invite her to the party and work your magic.
Most often the answer to that question is: a guy who is looking for an excuse not to ask her out, because he doesn't want to be rejected.
Eh, while you may be right, it's kind of silly to look at it that way. So you get rejected. Big deal. You don't get laid, which is what happens anyway by not asking her out.
Agreed. Draw the line at playing it during sex. I feel like that would be the musical equivalent of a cat clawing at your ball sack.
Speak for yourself. If she played that for me it'd be like Popeye eating spinach. A huge muscle would pop in my dick and she'd fly through the ceiling exploding into fireworks. I would also address her asshole as "Justin's Vagina." From there the problem solves itself, really. In other news I just made Jasper's Planters Punch. Holy shit this is amazing. Some clever, clever, beautiful man from the Bay Roc Hotel in Jamaica came up with this: 1 ounce of lime juice, 1 ounce of sugar. Mix and dissolve the sugar with a few dashes of Angostura bitters and grated nutmeg. Mix with 1.5 ounces dark rum and shake with ice.
I'm curious: are the women that you work with noticeably more likely to go to poundtown or be especially freaky than at any other office?
I'm going for a hike tonight at 7 to watch sunset from the highest point in the city. It's been raining all day, and the rain just let up so this should be fun.