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We, at the DNC, WH, and Hill along with colleagues on K-street and in the Elite Media, totally and completely reject this thesis. We will not be afraid of Ryan-VPship. We will destroy him. We will show that every-citizen is on his or her death-bed due to his budget plan. We are raising so much money due to our friends at Hollywood and NYC Fashion Industry that every-ad will feature Ryan. He is finished. So is Romney.We own the WH till Jan. 2017.http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0812/79493.html
If I drink that whole thing, I got a country song outta that.And a felony, mebbe.
Are you Titus, AP?I've noticed that a lot of homos want to kill and destroy. But since they're homos and can do no wrong we're not supposed to notice. Or if we do notice say anything about it. So are you a full of wrath destroyer homo, AP?
...You can suck down the sangria and leave the apples.
PogoIn your song include at least three of today's blog headlines. There's the makings of a truly tacky song in there. I wish I were clever enough to write it.
I remember the left used to have a kanipshin every time Bush 43 would write a signing statement, especially wherever he (Bush) was forced to sign a law passed by the Congress he (Bush) didnt necessarily agree with... not altering the law passed by congress, just a statement for posterity or whatever... probably hinting at his displeasure.Obama however.. doesn't suffer from that problem.Whenever he disagrees with the congress Obamas just writes and signs his own laws.Thats the kind of executive powers Chaves could look up to.Oh, como si eso no fuera poco..The old laws that were there before that he (Obama) doesn't like... he just says he wont enforce.
This is the same AP that told us the '10 elections were going Zero's way.However, if you want to conjure with something equally provocative, consider this from Dick Morris. If even close to true (and the skewing of most of the polls suggests it might be), we're in for a wild Fall.
Check out one headline...Bush's Signing Statement Dictatorship.
More revelations into the depths of democrat deceit:(Via insta link of AceOfSpades)"Romney left Bain in 1999. GST was shut down in 2001. Soptic’s wife had her own health insurance through 2003. Now, in 2006, she was diagnosed — diagnosed! — with very late-stage cancer. She died 22 days after diagnosis. Is the argument made that Romney owed this guy another seven years worth of insurance coverage? And what good would it even have done? She wasn’t even diagnosed until just over three weeks before she would die. What?! I have to point this out because until now I’d been assuming she was suffering with cancer for years. I knew this ad was preposterous, but this is just too much."
I've always avoided sangria because I'm not sure what you're supposed to do with the fruit. Would someone please instruct me?
Also, is it called sangria because it looks like blood what with the red wine, or because it was traditionally made with blood oranges?Surprisingly, Wikipedia was no help on this front.
Racist wine? Is that the separate but equal bowl? It looks like the great orange count guessing bowl.
Make apple sauce with a kick after the sangria is gone.
Seriously that bowl looks like you dumped in 50 Chik-fil-A fresh fruit sides and a bottle of Korbel's champagne. You can't eat it in one sitting, so you are either having company or going to a neighborhood pool party.
A really interesting thing from van Susteren and Karl Rove tonight was that the Women's Vote polls, skewed as they may or may not be, in any case show a real advantage for Obama in that the majority of women intend to vote for Obama though the women seem to quite agreee with the men as to his performance in office this far.They still think he is cute?
I ended up in a bowl just like that once.The rest is a blur, although I'm sure there were no charges.
Did you get your fur wet Pogo? Poor little guy ate the sangria soaked apples and forgot he was a possum and hung right side up all night.
Pogo said... ended up in a bowl just like that once.The rest is a blur, although I'm sure there were no charges.Tutti frutti, Wapatuli?
In the Randy Travis spot I mentioned my "walking down our major highway, while blacked out, beating on my chest, then waking up in my parents house tp'ed to the recliner while still in high school story." So, to quell everyones curiosity...We were just high school hooligans out on a Friday night late in the fall. We had just come from a football game. The county playoffs, which were held in UL's football stadium at the time. Colder than a witches tit, we didn't care. We had so much booze on us we clinked when we walked. I, being the "responsible one" was driving...my parents old Ford Country Squire station wagon, with real fake wood paneling on the sides.We bought our tickets, sat in our seats, and a cop see's us hooligans, and ambles over to hover behind us, keeping a close watch. We nudge each other, and pass along the whispered "Be cool. Don't drink anything 'til the cops gone." Where upon my best friend reaches into his coat and pulls out one of a dozen beers he is carrying.(this was his personal allotment for the night.)Down comes Mr. Popo. "What do you have there son?" "Huh" my friend replies. "In you hand. Is that a beer?" "Huh" my friend reiterates (I love my friend, he's my best friend, he's just not the sharpest knife in the drawer). "Come with me"the cop tells my buddy, and he takes him to a trash barrel. We follow along at a discrete distance."Empty all the beer into the can" he's told, and slowly 11 more bottles make a brief appearence. "If I search you am I gonna' find anymore?" asks the cop. "No sir" my dejected friend replies. "If I do, I'm gonna arrest you" the cop says. "No sir. There ain't no more" says my friend. "Okay" says the cop,"you can go back to your seat." (we can only conject that the cop believed my friend was carrying ALL our booze because he never said a word to the rest of us. Little did he know)We either won the game and celebrated by getting wasted, or lost the game and drowned our sorrow by getting wasted, the rest of the night is just flashes in my memory, and what my friends can remember too.
Part Deux...or why tailgating is a bad practice.One of my friends was a very outgoing guy. Popular with everyone. He had been drinking Boones Farm from his stash, along with taking shots from passing buddies of his. I assume everyone knows that mixing drinks(as in drinking different types of licquor, not bartending) is not good. And so we had our first crash of the night.After the game we had to exit the stadium. My buddy was too drunk to walk so we had been dragging him.(I should add at this point that a good samaritan had donated a bottle of vodka to my best friend so he could "stay warm" indicative of how much booze high schoolers can smuggle into a football game). We were all 2 sheets to the wind, except for our 3 sheeter. When we got to the gate there was our ol' buddy Mr. Popo. Arresting all the drunk teenagers before they could hit the road and kill somebody. Beside him, and I am not making this up, were my best friends 11 beers, in a cooler, waiting to be taken home I assume. Also beside him was a barrel filled to overflowing with empty bottles. They spilled over the ground like when you cokefoam overflows your cup.We dragged our friend around the corner, and slapped him a fw times to get his attention. "Wah?" "The cops are at the gate. You are going to have to walk out of here by yourself" Slap. "Wah...?" "The cops are at the gate. You are going to have to walk out of here by yourself" Slap. "The cops are at the..." "'Kay...'kay...I can do it" "Okay. Let's go" And we did.As soon as we were outside the view of the police, he collapsed. So we drug him all the way to the car and threw his ass in the back bed(station wagon...Mom and Dad), clambered in and headed for the next logical place drunk teenagers go...Pizza Hut!As I drove through the traffic of fifty thousand drunk kids leaving a football stadium the one in the back starts moaning. "What's he sayin'?" I ask. "He wants air" comes the reply. "fuck him, the drunk bastard" and we drive on.As we wait in the slow moving lanes the ass in the car behind me starts blowing his horn, like it's gonna' part the traffic like Noah parted the Red Sea(I know...Noah was eaten by a whale. Catholic school)We finally hit the main road/highway and picked up speed, but the ass behind me kept right on my ass. Flashing his highbeams, and such, for no apparent reason(well maybe all the "Eff you's" and birds coming from our car. Meanwhile, my friend the drunkbastard is being bounced and rolled around in the bed of the stationwagon like dice in a gamblers hand."He says he needs air or he's gonna' be sick" I am told. "He better not be sick in my parents car!" I yell back(like it would matter) "He says he's gonna blow!" I get yelled back. So I push the button on the dashboard that raised and lowered the rearwindow on this model wagon.Down goes the window as we come to a stop. Asswipe pulls right up almost touching my bumper, honkimg his horn. Light turns green, drunk bastard raises his head up and out the window and vomits all over asswipes hood, bumper, radiator, street.I hit the gas and feel all those Ford V-8 Interceptor engines go, and so do we...triumphantly to Pizza Hut. Laughing our asses off.
Part Tres...Or why drinking and gambling don't mixArriving at our destination, the afore mentioned Pizza Hut, we piled into a booth, playing grab ass and the juke box with equal teenage aggresiveness. The waitress, poor girl who is swamped with drunk customers from the football game takes our order and leaves. She dutifuly brings our drinks, but because of the crowd our pizza order gets lost in the shuffle.But we got booze and music so we're cool. For an hour. We ask were our pizza is and get apologized to by the overworked manager. "It'll be the next one we make." An hour later no pizza.This is when I have an epiphany. "Guys! You know what would be funny? If we had Domino's deliver us a pizza here!" "OMG! That's a great idea!"So I make the phone call. The guy at Domino's was a bit taken aback until we told him the situation, then he LOVED it.(I guess he did!) I return to my seat were a discusion/cunundrum has come up.We had a 16 oz. cup of vodka left over. Nobody actually liked the stuff, we just drank it because it was cheap, and alcoholic. What to do, what to do? And here's were I had a second epiphany."I bet I can drink that whole glass in 1 shot without puking!" I state confidently. "Betcha' can't" "No way" "Not gonna' happen" "NO. Really I can!" "Alright smart ass. Do it." "Yeah, do it" "drink it then" So I did.Sweat popped out of me immediately. A lot of sweat. I started to tremble like a fly bitten horse. I gripped the glass to stop the shaking thinking "I'm glad this is plastic, and not real glass" My friends hooted like apes and were pounding me on the back like I was a hero. "Control...Control" I muttered, the last coherent words I spoke that night. I pushed away from the table to take a leak, and my buddies are going "Yep. He's gonna' puke now" as I went into the mens room. I pee'd, came back out, sat down, and blacked out.Our pizza from Domino's arrived.
Part last...or Mommy, theres a mummy in our chair.I blacked out so what follows is the flashes of memory I do have, and the reports of my so called "friends".The Pizza hut manager was not pleased with us. He didn't get the joke of having a pizza delivered to a pizza place. But we told him abou...excuse me, they told him about the 2 hours and no pizza so he dis allow us to eat in the restaurant. Just get rid of the box.Somewhere along there I puked on the restaraunt floor. He kicked us out then. I remember that. I do remember walking down the highway beating my chest and doing the Tarzan yell. No one remembers how I got there, or how I got away. I remember sitting on the curb, with my best friend. Why we were sitting, and what we were talking about? Who knows.My buddies said we drove around awhile, went to Jerry's to eat, drove some more. If they say so.Wound up back at Pizza Hut again! To give you an idea about how crowded it was that night we were served again. And I puked on their floor again. I remember the look of a horrified family in the next booth.(I hope I didn't traumatize their kids)More driving.Woke up on my parents porch, alone. Shivering in the cold. My buddies came back after an attack of conscience('til the I would have sworn they had none) found me still on the porch. So they took my keys, and put me in the recliner in Mom and Dads living room. Then they had an epiphany, the evil bastards.Someone, and to this day they won't tell me who, got the great idea to wrap me in toilet paper like a mummy. So they did.The laughing and scuffling finally roused my parents who came down the hallway as my buddies fled the scene. Out the door like a shot they went.I DO(you bet your sweet ass I do) remember how mad Mom was, and my Dad laughing his ass off too. "Get up, and get to your room, and if you puke on my new carpet I will have your ass" she said in a quiet, Dirty Harry, chill you to the bone voice. I never heard a voice carry so much menace before or since.It scared me so straight I was able to do just that. And when my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.You would think an experience like that would swear a guy off ever getting that drunk again. It didn't, but that's another tale/tail from the hair of the dog that bit me.
Prison ain't so bad. You can make sangria in the terlet. Course it's shank or be shanked.
That looks a lot better than regular wine to me. Sangria blanca, o si es burbujeante entonces se llama zurra zurra = castigo, especialmente de azotes o golpes:a good thrashingo zurracapote en otras veces en otros lugares con diverso alcohol y diversa fruta pero aún similar a la sangría.That's how I've seen it.
Hey Chip Ahoy, thanks for fixing my Matterhorn picture (have saved it).
That drink is reminiscent of Obamacare.It was constitutional and then it wasn't and then it was constitutional back again.
Love A man and his dog
The way I see it...Randy Travis only sin is not going to the Olympics.
Can it still be called sangria if it's white? Maybe it should be called plasma sanguineo.
AprilApple said......You can suck down the sangria and leave the applesEvery time I see you comment I smile a little because of your screen name. When our youngest daughter was small she liked apricots but couldn't pronounce the word, so in her little 2 year old mind they became 'apron apples'. And your name is close enough that it reminds me of that and it brightens my day a bit. OK I'm done.
Carnifex, LMAO, it's like Tales from the Crypt.
Erika said...I've always avoided sangria because I'm not sure what you're supposed to do with the fruit. Would someone please instruct me?Bake a pie? I'm sure ChipA will have an answer.
Hell of a yarn, Carnifex.Hope things are going well health-wise.
Herewith a recipe for blonde sangria cribbed from an ancient copy of Bon Apetit: a bottle of semi sweet white wine; a quarter cup of sugar, a half cup of orange flavored cordial. Stir until sugar is dissolved. Add lots of ice and a small bottle of club soda. Add green apples, pears, pineapples and white grapes for garnish. No red fruit. If you want it stronger, omit the club soda.
Close, Roger J. That particular bowl has Sauvignon Blanc, Calvados, peach brandy (because I ran out of Calvados), a small amount of sugar, thin lemon slices, lime slices, apples and peaches. With club soda, just as you said.
Maybe next time try putting apples in it.
Calvados is apple brandy made in Normandy. It definitely takes getting used to. But surprisingly its not that expensive.Calvados and green apples is making my mouth water.
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