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I think I may have invented a drink . . .

One part amaretto (Di Saronno, preferably)
One part Godiva liqueur
Two parts cream

Is there already a name for this or should I try to come up with one? 'Cos wow is it tasty.

My brother (docwhoopee) picked my name in the Christmas gift exchange and got me a bottle of Amaretto Di Saronno and a bottle of Godiva liqueur. Thus the drink invention. My parents went ahead and got me a George Foreman grill and my sister (puppetmaker40) gave me a bootleg copy of Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie. (She was embarrassed to find out it was a bootleg, but I assured her that legal copies are hard to come by since the thing went out of print. I played it through and it plays perfectly, so no complaints.)

I picked my brother-in-law's name (he doesn't have an LJ as such, but he has a blog feed on LJ--peterdavidblog) and gave him a couple of Tom Lehrer CDs, which he appreciated. I got the baby (well, toddler now, since they're both four) nieces books and toys, and got my teenage neice, Ariel, some jewelry and a funky scarf.

I went with Kath and Ariel to see Eragon, which wasn't nearly as bad a movie as the blogosphere was making it out to be. Lord of the Rings Lite, really. It probably helped that my expectations where somewhere in the basement where Dungeons and Dragons hangs out, so I was quite pleasantly surprised. It's not a masterpiece, but it's a big fun popcorn movie.

Tonight, I'm going to Java Monkey for an early poetry reading and then probably going to the EARL to see The Selmanaires, unless I get a better offer between now and then.

Today I took pleasure in chocolate covered macadamia nuts.

Today I learned Laurell K. Hamilton made fandom_wank by having a meltdown on her blog about all the people who have been bitterly disappointed with the direction (or, rather, lack of direction) her books have taken.

Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
azewewish
Dec. 31st, 2006 10:34 pm (UTC)
It would take a LOT for a film to be as bad as D&D. *g*

And I love the sound of this new drink of yours. I foresee a trip to the liquour store.

HAPPY NEW YEAR, BABY!!
puppetmaker40
Jan. 1st, 2007 01:39 am (UTC)
You know I can't comment about the LKH.......
britpoptarts
Jan. 1st, 2007 06:17 am (UTC)
You might not be able to comment on LKH, Kath, but I sure can! :) Cy intro'd me to the series a few years back, otherwise I'd still be blissfully ignorant about the allure of vampire five-ways. (What allure?)

I found lkh_lashouts here on LJ and gleefully ranted in response to the Weh Weh you Nabobs of Negativity / I piss on Proofreaders LKH rant someone crossposted from elsewhen otherwhere online. I thought Anne Rice wore the My Fans Don't Understand My Brilliant Giftedness crown, but I think LKH is catching up.

My fuss-out is cc'd here: "I thought it was just me hating on LKH.

I don't hate HER, mind, having never met her. I hate the plotless books.

To be fair, I never classified them as Great Literature. I'm a voracious reader (or Tonstant Weader, if you prefer) and usually I read Literature, but occasionally I deliberately seek out bubblegum for the brain. In other words, there are books you can take to grad school and read out in the quad between classes and not be ashamed that you are seen reading them, and books that you buy to read in the bathtub simply because reading the shampoo bottle over and over 4,500 times get boring and you're compelled to READ SOMETHING due to your personal mental tics and quirks. In classification A we have classics and "edgy" writers like Sedaris, Palahniuk, Welsh, Tarte, Helprin, et cetera. In classification B we have Stephen King, Dean (R.) Koontz and LKH. Though I'd rather be caught reading King than LKH any day. He can, at least, spell and frequently has a plot in there with the "tl;dr" bits which, despite being "tl" I do actually read.

It's getting embarrassing, really.

I like detective novels, and books about metaphysical / fantasical subjects (when well done, and I am picky) and murder mysteries / true crime, and all of these generally are brain bubblegum and fine for what they are. When I happened upon LKH's series and it appeared to be a combo of the above, I was hopeful. In fairness, the first few books actually had a semblance of plot and some character development (of a sort), even if the most inobservant morons on the planet would find it worrisome that Anita Blake is written to resemble the full-colour ego-photo of LKH on the book cover. (Quick guide to rating book suckiness: no photo=serious literature, maybe a textbook; small black and white photo=possibly serious literature, but publisher appears worried that minions won't buy book without brand recognition of broody author glamour shot; colour photo=serious wankiness abounds; full-colour full-size cover shot of author=pure and unadulterated crapola. (If author's full colour photo is on the FRONT cover, it is the lowest form of dreck imaginable; clearly LKH is but one rung above the lowest depths of shite because her photo is "only" full-sized and in full colour on the BACK of the books.) Examine your bookshelf and see the truth of this for yourself.)

I, too, am amused by the notion that it takes Special People to appreciate the genius literary talent that is LKH and that anyone who has a legitimate gripe about the horrible proofreading (one thing the books are good for is keeping your red pencils sharpened), the lack of plot progression / actual plot content dwindling from 75% of total book content to about 5% or less, and the increasingly lengthy and increasingly boring sexual hang-up therapy session wankiness from Anita Sue Hamilton's sexual quirks and kinks (none of which make for enlightening or engaging reading) is mean-spirited, hateful, negative and/or clueless.

Whenever authors attack their fanbase, that's a sure sign that their books are reaching Critical Suckfulness Mass and are due to Implode from the weight of accumulated crapfulness any day now. Duck and cover! Duck and cover! Shitbomb counting down to zero! Plot is missing and considered dead. Characters now so two-dimensional that they will disappear if viewed from the side. Further regession into inevitable one-dimensionality will involve characters being sucked into the vacuous vacuums of their own lovingly-described genitalia and/or rectums. Warning: will also contain lovingly detailed descriptions of angsty vampires and their undead erect penises. Woo yay!"
britpoptarts
Jan. 1st, 2007 06:26 am (UTC)
Postscript
P.S. You can tell I was fussing because I ignored the existence of a thesaurus and repeated myself in the last couple of paragraphs. She makes me grouchy. Her 'creative' use of punctuation is but a bonus kick in the crotch, thank you very little. Next on Popular Authors Taking Themselves Too Seriously: "Why I'm the next JD Salinger" by Nicholas Sparks.

P.P.S. You can find out on a number of bartending websites what to make out of certain ingredients and find out thereby if your concoction is original or already exists under a known name. Keep in mind that vodka + cranberry juice has about five names that I'm aware of, so nothing's stopping you from calling it a Barenekkid Creamy Cubesucker* or Chocolatey Fruitcup or Sheila's Instant Sobriety Cure or whatever you like.

* I am beyond tired of watching that redheaded woman fellate her diSaronno-soaked ice cubes at the possibly gay male bartender in all the telly commercials. Who acts like that? I mean, really. At least her politically correct gender- and race- mixed group of drunken friends are shown taking the piss in a big way after.
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