All Hail Starbucks

Stupid Midterm is over but spent the ENTIRE weekend studying for the next senseless test that had to be complete today. I’m finding my brain only has so much capacity, earlier chapters leak out to make room for new sh*t. We were allowed to take a tiny index card with info to the in person test center along with a photo ID for the midterm. Certainly no one was looking to card me. I was pretty skived out by the sweaty scholars and felt the need for a full body condom to ward off their cooties. Grrrrr…..3 more online tests and the final to go, make it stop.

But I have a secret weapon to keep me grinding away at the graphing calculator, Mr. Coffee. When I quit smoking about 20 years ago, I replaced it with eleventy million cups a day to keep that stimulate high necessary to keep this high maintenance b*tch in top performance mode. I’ve literally made three admin peeps quit over the tongue lashings they received for not keeping the office stocked with fragrant beans. But sadly, 2 years ago, I had to cut waaayyyyyy back from a pot a day to one lonely cup due to my blood pressure. But now in my hour of need I’m back at it with a vengeance. In addition to chugging away at the office, I’ve been taking a little stroll over to afternoon iced java at my neighborhood Starbucks, every…..day.

I’m spending so much time there that they start my ice vanilla coffee with 2% while I’m standing in line. I am not tricked by tall, grande and venti. Bring on the extra large…….trenta, pure 32 ounces of cold pleasure. And let me mainline a little lemon bars while I’m at it. I mean I’m already way over my calorie intake, let’s just shoot the wad. And while we’re all overspending our fat content, this week is my Mom’s Coffee Cake to round it out.

Sour Cream Coffee Cake
¼ pound butter
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
½ point sour cream
1 teaspoon vanilla

Topping
¼ cup sugar
½ cup nuts (like walnuts)
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Cream butter and sugar. Add eggs, beat well. Add alternating the dry ingredients and sour cream. Mix well. Add vanilla. Sprinkle ½ topping in well greased 10” tube pan. Pour in half batter, sprinkle remaining topping, then remaining batter .Bake at 375 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes.

I’m finding the need to drink iced coffee even on my days off from the slave market and must venture into new Starbuck’s turf for my little fix. Saturday, I was the lone junkie/customer when little Travis queried my heroin/drink request. “And your name?” he probed. Ummmm….my name, isn’t this like an AA meeting? I mean I’m the only one at the counter. “Yes, your name” he insisted. Maintaining my incognito flair….Umm….Travis, my name is Travis. “Really” he squealed, “just like mine”. Whatever, just give me my crack and a lemon bar to go and nobody gets hurt.

Sangria and the Stand Up Comedienne

Statistics are still sucking, big time. Spent an amusing time with my main homies this weekend between reckless study sessions so once again, a repost based on my girls.

My girlfriends call me the funniest person they ever met. The question becomes is that a compliment or a criticism, you be the judge. Maybe it’s the because I was scarred as the middle child of seven with only an eight year difference from the youngest to oldest . Perhaps resulting in snappy one liners that make them scream with laughter so as not to be ignored. My parents, in addition to raising a tribe of comics, breed standard poodles, not those yappy future coyote bait pups, but the great big ones. The trouble with poodles is that if they do something funny and you laugh they will do it continually to the point it is no longer amusing, I am Fifi, hear me roar.



Periodically, the Big Tuna gets tired of my endless babbling and encourages me to have a Girls Weekend in order to wear out my sharp tongue. I went this past weekend to a cabin with the usual suspects, naturally Bebe, Lady Godiva who cuts all of our hair and the Sitter, who not only watched our children growing up, but now keeps us under control so we don’t run with scissors. The more we drink the more outrageous things spew out of my mouth. I keep thinking , this will be the thing that makes them gasp in horror, but it never happens. The only quiet they got from me was on the forced nature walk/death march and that was primarily to keep from tripping over a rock by not paying attention.

It all starts with an innocent glass of wine, but Sangria, oh so much smoother going down.

1 Bottle White Wine
½ Cup Peach Schnapps
2 Tablespoons Orange Liquor
2 Tablespoons Sugar
2 Cinnamon Sticks
1 Lemon Sliced
1 Orange Sliced
1 Peach Sliced
20 Ounces Club Soda
1 Tray Ice Cubes

You can substitute other fruit for the peach, I’ve used strawberries or even blueberries. Perfect drink on the deck overlooking the wilderness. A few glasses and we all got a bit giddy. I’d heard from Sheldon that if you take shots from above it makes you look thinner, standing on top of the deck railing taking downward shots is filled with its own peril. I also did a fine imitation of Helga, the yoga instructor, “you there, tall girl, have you never taken a yoga class before? Widen your flamingo legs and get closer to the floor”.

Just remember, “What happens at girl’s camp stays at girl’s camp”. That is of course until I post it on my blog.