Candied violets are the Necco Wafers of the overbred.
~Fran Lebowitz, Metropolitan Life
Grannie’s candied violets courtesy eG Forums.
Category Archives: Words to live by
Advice from the Chairman
I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.
~Frank Sinatra
Dino, Frank and a rip roaring good time courtesy of M. Remy Martin, Comrade Smirnoff and the good brothers J&B.
Photo courtesy norma-desmond-way
Expectation Management
We take comfort where we can find it and try not to judge.
Alert reader (and honorary Slattern co-founder) Robin Grunder sent me the image of this lovely greeting card, presumably because it reminds her of me. I don’t know whether to be pleased at being remembered or disturbed by the sentiment. Sometimes the truth stings; other times it pinches you on the arm until you scream and then leaves a permanent mark. In any case, lower expectations almost invariably yield higher success rates, and that’s what I’m all about.
The Slattern Rants: “Oh no, I don’t cook.”
I ADORE puppies…as long as someone else does the cooking.
As I have previously documented in my cluttery, overfurnished, boozy little corner of the blogosphere, given even a glimmer of a chance, I would move into a hotel and eat every meal in a restaurant for the rest of my life. In a heartbeat. Alas, though we all have dreams, we must also live in the real world. As such I can cook, and of necessity I do cook; from time to time I’ll admit I even enjoy it.
Knowing how to prepare a basic meal is just one of those things a reasonably competant adult should be able to do, along with riding a bicycle, driving a car and swallowing the worm at the bottom of a tequila bottle without going all sissy and gagging.
PSST Guy. Guy, your shades are on BACKWARDS. Courtesy foodnetworkhumor.com
Now I’m not saying everyone needs to be able to rustle up a standing rib roast or les nonnettes de poulet Agnès Sorel at the drop of a hat, but really the production of a simple omelette or burger should be well within the abilities of even the meanest intelligence. Hell, Guy Fieri has built a lucrative career as a cook, and he can’t even figure out which side of his head his fucking sunglasses belong on.
Tagged: Thank you sir, may I have another?
So twice in the same day, I was tagged by my fellow bloggers, Susan from lostnchina and Vickie from Jumping in Mud Puddles. Ha! Beat THAT oh Tall One.
Now, I’m not entirely sure what getting tagged is, but then again I don’t really know what Twittering is either, and that doesn’t stop me from doing it. So here, to the best of my Sazerac-compromised ability, is my attempt at answering the tag.
Here are the rules:
1. Post the rules.
2. Answer the questions the tagger set for you.
3. Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged.
4. Tag eleven people and link to them on your post.
5. Let them know you’ve tagged them!
Susan’s eleven questions:
1. What’s a topic you’d never touch in your blog?
Cannibalism. I’d have absolutely no idea how to roast a human loin. Hell, I struggle with a pork chop and there are directions for that.
2. Which word do you hate and why?
Slice. The sound of it makes my toes curl and my back arch. And not in a good way.
3. If you had to give up blogging, because of time constraints – or some other kind of pressure – what would you do as a substitute?
Duh. Begin happy hour before lunch.
4. What’s a frivolous holiday, in your opinion?
Let’s see, a day with no work, feasting and special drinks? They’re all busman’s holidays to me when you get right down to it.
5. Write a caption for the above picture.
I said no more FUCKING formula.
Kitchen Slattern 