When Becky's picture shows up on the side of a milk carton- cover for me, will you?

With all this free time on my hands, I finally found time to open up my mail-hole bag (that's what SHE said!) and peruse some of my fan mail. Usually I have my manservant, Renaldo, do this sort of thing so I can avoid touching anything you "common" people have touched, but he came down with a raging case of anal herpes and will be bedridden for a month. Fiddlesticks.

I get mail from all sorts of folks, today I'll show you a smattering of the joy I encounter each and every day when I wait for the mailman dressed in my most elegant eveningwear.

Our first letter comes from a fellow primate lover, it seems:

Oh, my. Ahem.
Well, Saco (is that pronounced saw-co or say-co?), I can appreciate a fellow monkey-lover as much as the next girl. Lord, how I love their funny faces and the way they jauntily fling their feces at us silly humans. Thing is, Saco- I can't say I've ever had sexual feelings towards a monkey- well, not unless you count the monkey from Every Which Way but Loose. Now THAT was a good-looking, sexy monkey- am I right girls? Am I right?

But honestly, Saco- I don't see this working out for us. I'm not into furries and I'm certainly not into poo-flinging primates- not in the bow-bow-chicka-bow sense, anyways. I'm sending you the number of your local zoo- maybe you will find the sweet, sweet monkey love that you are looking for there. Or you'll get arrested. Whatever- not my problem anymore.

My next letter comes from one of my younger fans. Well, at least I think it's from someone under the age of 10, judging from the handwriting, stickers, and faint scent of crayola crayons and glue emanating from the envelope:

Well, Becky- your letter has me confused and worried. Do Mommy and Daddy let you go on the com-pu-tor all by yourself and read whatever you want? Are Mommy and Daddy too busy drinking "adult juice" on the back porch while smoking those funny-smelling cigarettes to notice you? Or, did Mommy and Daddy give you away to that bill collector that came to the house because Daddy spent all the family's money on gambling and "special lady friends"?

Let me tell you, Becky, no matter why you're here, I welcome you. I enjoy the chance to mold a young mind, and I do indeed like unicorns and rainbows. By the time I'm done with you, you'll know how to make a perfect martini, you'll have mastered the art of picking your unders out of your bum in public places, and you'll probably have been arrested- but don't worry, you're still a juvenile so it's all good. Think of me as your mentor- your BFF, if you will. We have so much to do, Becky. Now go find Mommy's credit cards and use them take the first bus here- I'll be anxoiusly awaiting your arrival with many catalogs in hand. How do you feel about shopping, Becky...?

The next letter I found under my pillow this morning. I'm not sure how it got there, but it sure was a thoughtful gesture, whoever did it:
First off, Klaus- you seem to struggle with the fine art of letter writing. Just an FYI- just because you cross it out doesn't mean I can't read it. It's not like some sort of invisibility cloak, dummy. Second, thank you from the bottom of my heart for keeping my posture problem a secret- people can be so cruel towards the posturally-challenged. Dumbass. Now everyone knows about my slouching AND my laziness when it comes to keeping up with my waxing. Oh well, I'm sure most of my female readers share this problem, right? It's really common, right? Right?

Ooh- I love when I get letters from friends!!! This next one is from my bestest girl, Gwen:
Oh, Gwennie, you so silly. It's so cute how you keep trying to make people think you don't eat babies when you already admitted it. Fine, we'll keep your secret. OK, everyone? Don't tell anyone else that Gwen eats babies. Thanks a ton.

This next one was hand-delivered (OK, mouth-delivered) by my new doggie, Bubs this morning:
Oh, Bubs. If you didn't want me laughing at your little funny weiner, then you shouldn't HAVE a little, funny weiner. I'm sorry baby, I can't help myself. Get used to it, sweetie.

Finally, this last one was tucked into my mail yesterday. I think it might be from my hot mailman who (I suspect) has a gigantic crush on me:

Oh, he's so shy. He's trying to tell me he loves me, but he's too socially awkward to say it straight out. I think this is code for "Next time, please meet me at the door wearing nothing but a thong and pasties. I lust for you."
Benny, Benny, Benny- ours is a forbidden love- we must look but not touch. Remember- last time I tried to touch you someone took out a restraining order on me. I know it wasn't you, silly. I'm sure it was your mean bosses at the Post Office. Hey, hasn't that thing expired by now? Hmmm...maybe I should see for sure tomorrow- what time can I expect to touch you?

****************************************

Well, that's all the mail I have time for today, my little mail monkeys. Until our next installment...

Any correspondence/complaints/questions/boxes of candy can be sent to:

Whiskeymarie VonPartypants
666 Bubbles Terrace
St. Paul, MN 55666

*Whiskeymarie VonPartypants, Inc. in no way endorses bestiality, gratuitous nudity, sexually harrassing letter-carriers, or eating babies.
*WVP, Inc does, however, endorse giggling at dog's weiners. Weiners are funny. Tee-hee. Weiner.

XO

If you can't take the heat, quit licking the grill, dummy.

When I have time off, as I do now, I tend to occupy my time a number of ways: Reading, trying to teach my pets to juggle, organizing various piles of crap around the house, sweeping up hairballs, staring at my pores for hours on end, internet shopping, cyber-stalking celebrities, self-diagnosing vague symptoms on WebMD, and finally- cooking.

I've been cooking up a storm here at Casa deVonPartypants lately, and I can confidently say that nothing I've made has killed anyone...yet.

Since I know y'all love food porn almost as much as you love midget clown porn, here is my last four days in food, minus the cereal I ate for breakfast and my 2:00 AM shame nachos.

Friday: White-wine braised swiss chard with...

...chicken with olives, capers & roasted lemons, loosely based on this recipe. So very, very delicious. I used kalamata olives since I didn't have any green ones, and I roasted the lemons a much shorter time at a higher heat, as I wanted them to get a bit browned.

Saturday found me craving these potato-tuna turnovers. I've had my students make them a bunch of times and they are like flaky, buttery crack to me. Phyllo can be a bitch to work with sometimes, but these are so good I don't mind. I mixed some spicy harissa (from a jar- sue me) with greek yogurt for a dipping sauce. If you can get the fancy tuna packed in oil, use it, otherwise just use regular tuna and add some good extra-virgin olive oil to the mix.

I thought I'd stick with a Mediterranean/Middle Eastern theme for the rest of the meal, so I made a spicy chicken, spinach & chickpea curry (served on basil quinoa):

And since we had some fabulous homegrown tomatoes and fresh basil from the farmer's market, I made a simple salad with tomatoes, basil and feta cheese with a basil-mint vinaigrette:

Oops- that's not food! How'd this snapshot of extreme cuteness get in there? Silly me...

Sunday found us wanting to grill. We had a friend coming over and some venison tenderloins in the freezer that we decided it was time to eat, so this is what I came up with- Balsamic-marinated venison loin with tomato-roasted pepper relish on grilled onions & zucchini:

Last night's dinner- Pan-roasted Wild-caught Alaskan halibut with avocado-lime salsa (basically just avocado, lots of lime juice, a little red onion, a little olive oil and some salt & pepper). I served it with arroz verde and green beans with caramelized onions, almonds & lime. The green beans were kind of an afterthought, but holy crap they were GOOD:

Oh, and we used the juicer to juice part of a watermelon so I could make watermelon daquiris:

I planted a cherry tree about 5 years ago which, up until this year I have been unable to actually enjoy as the stupid birds usually eat every. stinking. cherry. before I get a chance. For whatever reason, this year they aren't interested. These are super-duper-tart cherries, so they should be good for baking. Eating them straight off the tree isn't an option, unless eating a lemon like an apple is your sort of thing- sour as all get-out with a hefty side of bitter- yum!

Trouble likes to pull the cherries out of the bowl and bat them around. Yes, he's on the counter. I'm aware that he shouldn't be there. He's just so darned cute and persistent that I can't kick him off every time. Don't worry- the counter/cutting board get thoroughly scrubbed & disinfected every time I use them. I love them to death, but even I don't want my food to have overtones of cat butt:

So, I made cherry-almond pound cake today. It's still cooling, so I haven't tried it yet, but this is the finished product:

When I'm too fat to get off of the couch and bathe myself properly, you guys will be there for me- right?

Thanks- you're the best!

XO

The one where you debate staging a poignant, yet hilarious, intervention.

So, yeah.
I went to my 20-year reunion this past weekend, held at a distinguished and exclusive venue located in the pristine northwoods. Le Casa de Buffalo is a rustic, yet highly sophisticated tavern of sorts, complete with its own campground and semi-residential RV park. Many a night has occured when a retardedly drunk patron only has to stumble home 50 feet or so to their pop-up camper, where they have been living since the bitch wife got the house. Good times.
The lite beer flows freely from the freshly tapped kegs, and the giant fiberglass buffalo at the entrance lets you know that you're in the right place.

Waffle and I arrived fashionably late (6:45, it started at 6), to be greeted by a smorgasboard of our former students. We sat down with one guy that we adore who didn't actually graduate with our class as his family moved somewhere around 9th or 10th grade, but he was a good friend of our little misfit clan and we were dying to see him. This is also when the first drinks of the evening were consumed, followed by the second round about 8 minutes later. And so on...

(Me and Waffle, about 5 hours in.)

I have to say most everyone looked really, really good. As in, "How the fuck are we 38?? We look 28-32 TOPS. Right?? RIGHT??"
A few divorces here & there, lots of kids of all ages, and a few impending grandkids. Some of the girls were downright hot, and a few of the guys got much better looking with time. Everyone was nice to one another, and most everyone proceeded to drink themselves silly- literally and figuratively. There was a lot of hugging and smiling going on- pretty much 80% of my pictures were people in the same pose, as demonstrated here by myself and one of the guys from our class. I just hope the small-town folk are ready for interracial love such as ours:

(God, I'm pale.)

I feel very lucky (now) to have gone to such a small high school. At the time, I yearned to live somewhere that students didn't see driving a tractor to school as an option, and where the nightlife consisted of more than sitting in either mine or Waffle's bedrooms with music cranked and a half-empty bottle of Dr. Pepper getting passed between us while we called boys and munched on Doritos.
Now I see what a great thing that was- we all know each other, and we genuinely care about what is going on in everyone's life. It was really, really fun. And yes, there are a few VERY debaucherous things that happened. And no, for once they didn't directly involve me. But alas, to preserve the dignity of the individuals in question (or, more accurately, to not further sully it), I have to keep my lips sealed. I will give you three words: makeout, underpants, and boobies. Use your imagination, monkeys.

Sunday night I had the honor and the privelege to meet one of my all-time favorite blogger girls. Lollie has been in the picture from early on, when I was thrilled if I got 2 comments on a post. I love, love, love this woman and was really excited (and kind of nervous) to meet her & her Mr.

We met up at W.A. Frost's, here in St. Paul and sat on the amazing patio there. She also invited her friend Hulles, who lives in St. Paul and writes a not-often-enough-updated blog, among other fantastic things. I dragged the Mr. along, we sat, we drank, we talked, and we just had an awesome time in general. Lollie, her Mr. and Hulles were all funny, smart, easy to get along with, and people who "get it" in general. Lollie is gorgeous, totally tiny (even after having a cheeky little monkey boy less than 1 year ago) and her Mr. is a witty, handsome devil. Hulles was an unexpected delight and someone I hope we hang out with again and often- funniest guy I've met in a long time.

Oh, and did I mention that we drank a little?

Holy hell, after about 14 glasses of wine and then a trip across the street to the Russian place for vodka drinkies, it was all a little blurry. An exerpt from mine & Lollie's e-mail exchange the next day:

Lollie: "I felt like a dirty pirate hooker the next morning - I even barfed a couple of times. YEAH! SHE STILL HAS IT!! (Did you see my boobies at one point...?)" Me: "If I saw your boobies, I don't remember, but [Hulles] has pics from Moscow on the Hill that I think we should be scared of."

Good times. I love you, Lollie! You can totally show me your boobies anytime. I don't mind. How we didn't manage to get a picture of us together, only the booze knows why.


Beyond that, my last 5-6 days has consisted of the following:

• Pet hair removal from the house (took ALL day Tuesday and now it's ALL back- ugh.)
• BBQ-ing with friends
• Reading my first 1/2 book in 8 months. I hope to finish in the next 8.
  
• Staring at my toes and inventing fairy tales involving them. My favorite is "Goldietoes and the Festering Ingrowns."
  
• Putting up roman shades in 2 rooms- one of those "easy" projects that had me yelling "motherfucker!" and "Jesus, shit!" every few seconds. Fun.
  
• Minor gardening
• Dog/cat intervention and mediation
• Teaching said dog how to vomit into a plastic bag on car trips instead of my lap- yay, me!
• Visiting the spankin' new Trader Joe's that is LESS THAN ONE MILE FROM MY HOUSE AND I CAN BIKE THERE, SUCKAS!!
• Picking at scabs
• Target, Menards, Kmart (don't ask), Vintage furniture shopping, Farmer's market, and internet shopping.
  
• Applying for the corner hooker's position as Madge is retiring and I think we'll need the extra cash as we seem to be hemmoraging it lately. For my audition I demonstrated how I can say "butt job" in 14 different languages, thus demonstrating my versatility. I think I have a good chance of getting the position...
• Cooking- this one was last night's dinner. Brown rice risotto (I left it kind of saucy on purpose) with bacon, corn & swiss chard, adobo-rubbed & roasted pork tenderloin, and pumpkinseed pesto. Yum:

So there you have it, drama, romance, intrigue and little or no talk of pet feces, for once.

Happy Thursday, my little dirty pirate hookers. Happy Thursday.

XO