The McSaddle Daiquiri

I don't know many folks who don't like summer time. Show me one and I will throw a strong drink right in their goddamn face. What I really want to talk about though are the drinks that are too good to throw in anyones face.

Last summer, I gave you recipes for the Redneck Sunrise and the Mennonite Lemonade. I never posted a recipe for the McSaddle Daiquiri, which comes as kind of a surprise to me. I wondered what the heat, humidity, fatigue, workplace irritation, and persistent inebriation had done to me.

Why wouldn't I share this recipe with the world? I think that my readers deserve all the good things I can impart upon them. Especially since they check this blog regularly, often to find little more than pedantic contrived bullshit. Honestly though, I feel as though my poetry has developed.

So, here it is. More such recipes will follow because I think the drink recipe genre is one worth developing. Also, I am working on short fiction so there will be fewer poems and essays.

Feel free to compare and contrast the McSaddle Daiquiri and the Hemingway Daiquiri and make erroneous inferences about that it says about the two men.

McSaddle Daiquiri (For Two)

• 8 shots of Bacardi Coco Coconut Rum
• 2 Cans of Strawberry-Lime Jones Soda
• A large lime
  

Mixing instructions:

Shaker: (Recommended)

1. Fill your shaker 40% to the top with large ice cubes. (The larger the ice, the slower it melts)
   
2. Add rum. (Fresh out of the freezer)
   
3. Add a quarter of a lime's worth of juice.
   
4. Add Jones Soda
5. Shake It All About
6. Rim a good glass with a with a wedge of lime, and garnish.
7. Pour.
8. Drink
9. Enjoy
10. Stumble
11. Apologize
12. Repeat.
    

Blender

1. Add the rum, ice cold and fresh from the freezer.
2. Add the lime juice, about a quarter-lime worth.
   
3. You want a good amount of ice. Add 6 or so cubes at a time and crush them with with the rum and juice on a low setting. Doing it on too high of a setting will give you an unusable ice-sludge that will melt too quickly and give you a weak drink.
4. Add the Jones Soda and stir it into the pitcher. DO NOT turn on the blender after adding the Soda, it will foam up and give you the mess of a lifetime!
5. Rim a good glass with a lime wedge and garnish.
6. Pour.
7. Drink
8. Enjoy
9. Stumble
10. Apologize
11. Repeat.

This is best consumed in proximity to hot sand and in view of a cool, cleansing coastline.

The Hemingway Daquri

• 1 1/2 oz Light Rum
• 1/4 oz Maraschino liqueur
• 3/4 oz Lime juice
• 1/4 oz Grapefruit juice
  

Mixing instructions:

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass.

Ernie H. had an economy of words and also his drinks had an economy of process and adornment. I clearly, do not. I still love him.

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The King Of Hearts

1.) The Ice Machine

The boys, Mitch, Billy and I started drinking early in the evening. It was a 70 degree day in April and we walked out to the corner liqueur store to buy a fifth of Sailor Jerry's and a twelve-pack of Pabst. Billy had to go inside and get some cash from the ATM, so Mitch and I waited outside. I decided to climb on top of the ice machine and sit on top of it.

"Ha ha, see if I ever need to escape from the cops, I can climb up here and onto the roof!" I said to Mitch.

"Yeah?", Mich said.

"Oh yeah! I mean...I could hide up here for days I think. I could get my groceries here." I said.

"I think you might get sick of paying five dollars for stale QuickieDoo pre-packaged submarine sandwiches.", Mitch said.

"I don't know, it's made with real bread substitute!" I quipped. "Besides, they have Hot Pockets too".

I saw Billy come out, and I slid off the top of the ice machine. On my way down I got a small rip on my best pair of Levis. "FUCK-O-MIGHTY" I thought. "Oh well", I figured. "I can sew them up later."

Billy gave me cash, and I went inside to buy. They didn't have any 12 packs of PBR. "Shit!" I thought. I didn't know what else to get, so I called Mitch on mien Razr. "Yeah they don't have any 12 packs of Pabst, and I don't know if we wanted a pint or a fifth of the Sailor's?"

"Uh. . ." I could hear him talking to Billy on the phone. "Uh. . .they don't have Pabst in twelves. And do we want a fifth or pint of Sailor's?"

Soon this was the least of our problems. A 6'3 townie dweeb with terrible tattoos all over his arms came into the walk-in cooler where I had been having this phone conversation. He looked like a guy who might have been related to Penn from Penn and Teller, and had the fowl odor of stale sweat, cigarettes, and Frito Lay snacks. He smelled like Kevin Smith looks.

"Hey uh, do you want to tell me why you sat on top of my ice cooler?"

"His ice machine?", I wondered to myself. Apparently, he must own the entire chain of QuickieDos. His RANCID band-tee had somehow led me to believe that he actually did not work in corporate. How terrible would it be to be both failed hipster garbage AND an establishment shill at all at once?

"Uh, was that a problem?" I asked.


"Yeah, well you crushed the top of the ice cooler!", The Dweeb said.

"Nahh it was pretty messed up before.", I explained.

"No! I looked at it 20 minutes ago as I was coming from another store", The Dweeb said.

Did this guy really take a good look at the top of all the ice machine before he went into every QuickieDoo?

"I doubt that very much actually.", I told him.

"Well, lets go look!" said El Dweebo.

I followed him outside. Mitch and Billy saw me talking to this dude as they saw him pointing at the ice machine and they couldn't restrain their laughter.

"Uh yeah, there it is", he said.

"Eh, well it was pretty much like that. I didn't do anything to it." I reiterated.

"No! I SAW you" he said.

I thought about telling him that the ice machine had put a rip in my good denim and that we should call it good. I decided against it.

"Well, what do you want?" I placated.

"Just leave." he said with a sigh of dissatisfaction and apathy.

Well, I was going to buy fifth of booze, and some beer from this guy. Did he think he was coming out ahead with having a crushed ice machine and refusing to sell me goods from his store? I got the sneaking suspicion that this kind of corporate stewardship is why we have had Enron, and the recent Credit Crisis on Wall Street. Certainly this is the kind of decision making that gave us the Sub-Prime mortgage nonsense as well. This guy might have seemed like a shitty executive, but with the way things have been going lately, he is about par for the course.

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Too Drunk Beats Being Too Sober

I find it hard to keep myself from getting too drunk
So I do my best to keep from getting too sober
Because when I wake up and I gaze
with my eyes still closed to the noon sun
I can't bare to recall all the ways
I was a fool in the name of fun
all while new memories that I could have made got sunk
before I could even get out of The Harbor.

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A Bottomless Well
ain't that just swell?

I would rather get drunk than write this paper.
I would rather not live than not die, it's safer.

I think it's a good time to rethink my priorities
I've had too much to think, so said the authorities.

But it's a bottomless well
In so far as I can tell

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Mulled Cider and Quivering Chins

The Best Way To Atone For Our Sins

I am pretty pissed with woman-kind at the moment
The ones who love me, for being not too smart or warm;
The ones who're neither dumb nor cold, for not loving me.

When you lose love you're not too sure you'll love again
But then [as you know] you do
and then you lose those loves too.

I'm holding out for one that likes good books, good movies
and also she'll like good songs.
and she knows where she belongs.
on the rug
she and I
with crayons
sipping on rum mulled cider.
The space between us grows tighter
and never grows loose again,
I see quivers on her chin.
And when she is away I can smell her on my sheets.
and I grin, and the whole room can feel that my heart beats.

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