National Rum Day: Saturday, August 16th!

Uh oh! It’s my favorite time of the year – National Rum Day!

How did the holiday sneak up on me again? I haven’t finished my NRD shopping yet: still need to run out and buy all of my loved ones bags of limes, fresh mint, and lots of Coca-Cola so they can make themselves a festive drink while reading Hunter S. Thompson’s The Rum Diaries.

What better way to celebrate National Rum Day than baking a cake? My girl Jessica Reyes has hooked us up with a KILLER recipe for Puerto Rican Rum Cake that’s super simple, delicious, and – best part – uses over a cup of rum in the recipe. Um, yes, please!

So, what are you waiting for, kiddos? It’s National Rum Day Eve: go do your last minute shopping and get to celebrating!

Keep it sloshy,

❤ Tori

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So, I bought this…

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I purchased this kick-ass shirt this weekend and it wasn’t until I got home that I realized there was a serious, glaring error with this shirt.

Like, what the fuck?

How do you make that BIG of a mistake on a shirt?

Can you see what is missing?

It will take a second or two. I know I missed it the first time.

Can’t figure it out?

I will give you a hint: something VERY OBVIOUS is missing.

Still can’t find it?

OK, OK. I will help you out, but you’re going to feel like an idiot once I tell you.

This is what the shirt says:

“Real women drink craft beer.”

Here is what it should say:

“Real women drink craft beer… And wine, and liquor, and anything else with an alcohol content.”

Feel like an idiot for missing something so obvious, right?

Yeah, me too.

Oh well. I’m still going to rock that shit like a boss and just laugh at everyone that doesn’t catch the error as I slosh my drink on them.

Sunshine and rainbows, my alchies!

– Grog

Peacocks

OK. Grog here. I’m definitely feeling… good.

Tonight was a close friend’s birthday party. We went to dinner at Kobe’s [shit’s expensive, but fucking AMAZING] and then out for some delicious craft beer at World of Beer
.

Tonight, in my bright pink jumper and high heels, I seemed to be a magnet for creeps. Like, legitimate creepos.

Men are like peacocks. When they spot a female, they spread their wings out and flaunt their feathers, desperate for attention.

One guy seemed intent on shoving his feathers right under my eyeballs – and keeping them there ALL NIGHT.

A total slimeball approached our table – of 8 people at World of Beer – and he wouldn’t leave. He was wasted before he even walked over, barely able to stand. Rather than make small talk… he basically started an argument [about sports, of all things] the second he walked up. When I politely [I was only 2 drinks in, mind you] disgreed, he GRABBED MY FUCKING ARM.

Dude.

You don’t touch someone you don’t know.

You really don’t touch someone who is married to a 6’4″, 215 lb Mexican man.

What the FUCK were you thinkng?

I tried to play nice. This guy was shit-faced, talking about UCF vs. FSU vs. UF. He was shit-talking practically every Florida team. He was so wasted, he didn’t know his ASS from his elbow. Seriously. I was honestly surprised he was standing.

I’m a UCF grad that follows UF, but I’m pretty open about sports. Fuck, I’m a girl. I’m impressed that I keep up with sports. This guy should have been equally floored by my knowledge of the game.

Unfortunately, he was not. He was PISSED that I was a UF fan.

He was an FSU fan. That attends UCF. That is 31 and has 130 credit hours that he’s been working on since he was 18 and hasn’t graduated.

Yeah…. this guy was a definite winner.

So, needless to say, he’s probably 10-12 drinks deep, totally wasted, and becomes argumentative with me and several guys at the table.

Then… he grabs my arm.

Oh.

OH NO.

You do NOT touch this lady. I may be petite. I may be fucking blonde. But you do NOT TOUCH THIS GIRL.

BAM!

A punch from me, right into the shoulder.

Pause.

CRUNCH.

A punch from my husbamd, right into this guy’s nose.

My husband is NOT a fighter. He and I both agree that violence is not the answer. However, if you GRAB A GIRL’S ARM – your ass is grass, dude.

So… yeah.

A calm night out turned into a broken nose for an FSU fan and wannabe-graduate of UCF.

I’m not a violent person. I don’t like seeing people hurt. However, sometimes, it’s nice to see a peacock deplumed (sp?) once in a while, you know?

Shitting rainbows and farting sunshine, people 🙂

~ Grog

P.S. Our waitress felt so bad about the shit-head that she bought us a round of beer. Meanwhile, bloody-nose stood outside with his friends, waiting for the cops to show up…and arrest him for disorderly conduct! Bwahahaha. Sometimes karma DOES work out.