When we completed our 25 Days of Drinkmas in 2020, we had every intention of doing it again in 2021. What we didn’t realize was that it would still be categorized as an Adventure in Lockdown.
Amazon recently announced they will now be paying tuition for all hourly U.S. employees. People are talking about what a wonderful thing this is. And I get it. After the year we’ve had, a big wonderful thing would be big and wonderful. But here I am in Kassandra Korner hoping I’m not the only one who sees this for the unmitigated bullshittery it is.
CW: Suicide
Back in July, I participated in a fitness-based fundraiser for a local women’s shelter. (Thank you again to everyone who made that the success it was, you are awesome.) Toward the end of that event, I saw a post about a similar fundraiser coming up for another organization I support.
If I’m going to be working out anyway, other people can benefit from it as much as I do.
You don’t know me, and chances are slim anyone working at Instagram will actually read this. But I’ll write it anyway, on the off chance that someone does read it, and that someone might actually be willing to help someone else avoid what I had to deal with.
It’s Thanksgiving Week in the US, and rapidly approaching the winter holiday season for all, which means people who don’t cook or bake much any other time of year will be attempting to cook and bake things they may not have ever cooked or baked before. And for those people, very often that task will mean subjecting themselves to the beast that is The Food Blogger.
I first observed National Bundt Cake Day in 2011, so this year marked my 10th time celebrating the day by creating an original recipe Bundt. Some have been more successful than others. Some have been amazing. Some have been downright weird. Some, like last year’s, are best not spoken of.
It was National Bundt Cake Day 2019.
I had a dozen lemons from my tree going crazy.
I had a bottle of blue curaçao from that time it was on sale when I was shopping for supplies for the Harvey Wallbanger Bundt.
I had many fond memories of being in my 20s and going to Chili’s and eating burgers that were served with knives sticking out of them and drinking Electric Lemonade like it was water and not being at all disturbed by the fact that Chili’s thought it was a great idea to give patrons both knives and copious amounts of alcohol at the same time.
A few years ago, my husband awoke with a fragment of a dream clinging to his mind, a product of his subconscious eager to become part of his waking reality. As we were ingesting our respective morning psychoactives, he related to me the only part of this dream that really mattered:
“Bolognacotti.”
