Canadian Politics Today

I strolled in at half-past five and noticed the Admiral immediately.  He was lecturing everyone within earshot about, quite literally, the price of tea in China.

"Cheque please!" said one young man, trying to get the attention of the bartender.

"And then, as it would happen, the Admiralty had once again seized the port of Hong Kong, you see, so--"

"CHEQUE PLEASE!"  The young man slapped down a twenty on the bar and departed hastily.  With the stool now free, I plunked myself down next to my old friend.

"I thought he would never leave," the Admiral remarked. "Tiresome company. How have you been, my dear?"

"Keeping my head above water," I replied. "But just barely. I feel like I'm paddling upstream and the current is getting stronger and stronger. I have to paddle harder than ever just to keep from getting pushed backwards."

"Well then," he mused, "perhaps you are going the wrong direction... or paddling in the wrong creek altogether."   I didn't reply.  It was an idea that I'd pondered myself many times.

"I saw that Lulu's has closed down," I remarked, to change the subject.  Lulu's was a Kim City fixture. Not one of my usual haunts, but to some, a local landmark.

"I saw," the Admiral replied. "Heartbreaking. A terrible loss.  No doubt it will be turned into some sort of trendy, overpriced establishment for young fools.  I'm grateful Lulu herself is not alive to witness this tragedy."

"There was an actual Lulu?" I asked, intrigued.

"Oh, indeed!" he replied. "You remind me so much of her."

"Wow!" I was quite flattered. "What was she like?"

"Quite a woman," he said, smiling as he reminisced. "A foul tempered curmudgeon. Uncouth. Rude. Bullheaded. Thick as a brick. An ox of a woman. Smelled like an ashtray. Dumber than a sack of hammers."

"uhh... thanks?"

"Yes, my dear, she'd have liked you," he assured me. "Either than or you'd have killed each other. Whichever the case, you're cut from the same cloth. But her best quality, I believe, was that she mixed a most wonderful Dark And Stormy."



 -k

"I feel the phrase 'sports bar' is an oxymoron," the Admiral declared as we arrived.  "There is nothing very sporting about sitting in front of a television drinking beer."

"Shut up and look for the Sheikh," I snarled. "He said he had a table."

The big game was about to begin, and there was a boisterous crowd on hand.  Scanning the room for a moment, I saw our friend, Sheikh Ahmed al-Shabazz.  He had spotted us by the door and was waving us over.  He had exchanged his usual head dress for a giant foam cheese wedge hat to mark the occasion.

"Good to see you again, my friends!" he declared. "It has been some time."

"It is good to see you, old friend," the Admiral agreed.

"I like your hat," I told the Sheikh. "It suits you."   

"When in Rome," he replied, smiling. In addition to the foam cheese wedge he wore on his head, he also had a giant foam mitt on his hand.  The big yellow mitt proclaimed itself to be #1, and fortunately had the index finger extended rather than the middle finger.

"So your troubles with the customs and border services people...?" the Admiral inquired.

"None of that today," he said, dismissing the question with a wave of his big foam mitt. "Another time. Today we celebrate."

"Celebrate what?" I asked, as the waitress arrived with a big pitcher of beer and three mugs.

"Companionship. Camaraderie. This shared experience... this group of friends and strangers, all here together to watch this spectacle unfold. Let's watch some football, my friends."

"Football is played with a round ball, by gentlemen," the Admiral stated. "These battalions of armored mutants fighting over an oversized lemon is decidedly not football. I should say it seems more like a hybrid of Australian rugby and ancient gladiatorial--"

The Admiral's rant was interrupted as Sheikh al-Shabazz poked him in the nose with the #1 finger on his oversized foam mitt.

"When in Rome," the Sheikh reminded him, continuing to playfully poke the foam finger in the Admiral's face, to the Admiral's annoyance.

"Guys!"  I told them, and pointed to the screen. "It's kickoff time!"

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I bought my first bottle of Lillet last week, and am now trying to figure out what to do with Lillet.  I have come up with a couple of drinks.

The Beautiful Blonde:
 - 1 oz Mezcal
 - 1 oz Lillet
The sweetness of the Lillet balances nicely with the smokiness of the Mezcal.

And introducing the Happy Kimmy:
 - 1 oz Campari
 - 1 oz gin
 - 1 oz Lillet
This is just a Negroni with Lillet in place of vermouth. It's sweeter than a regular Negroni.  I wanted to make this with bourbon instead of gin, but I haven't got any bourbon right now.


 -k

Session Ales seem to be a thing now.  It used to be that you just knew what was one, but it didn't have the name on the can.

Still, very nice, if you can get it.

Happy St Patrick's Day, everyone!  It's a time for Irish people to celebrate their roots, and a time for the rest of us to get hammered.

 -k

I'm of Irish heritage myself. The stereotype is that Irish drink a lot. I hope that's true. Happy St Patrick's Day!



Funny story about an office party. Apparently, there's a drink called "sex on the beach." I was drunk enough that when someone ordered one, I slurred "I don't wanna have sex on the beach; I'll get sand in my ****." I never quite lived that one down.

I don't get it.  I thought he ordered a 'Flat Table' ?

I dreamt that my ex-husband died and Joan and I had to go through her things.  She had gone down hill and was living in a cheap motel.

I’m confused...   your ex-husband is a “her”?  I suppose it’s possible...and I’m not passing judgement...   just asking for clarification.

What ?  Why did I wrote that.  Freud wept.  MY ex-girlfriend, what the f****.   Weird.