Back in my late teens, my good friend Haley and I would go to a lot of scene kid parties. Our drink of choice was oftentimes "Christmas." Basically we'd just buy a half-gallon of chocolate milk, dump a lot of it on the lawn outside of the party and fill the container up with Ice 101 or Peppermint Schnapps.
Classy, I know.
I'm older now (23, in fact), but I still enjoy a mug of Christmas. The boyfriend and I are drinking chocolate soymilk and peppermint schnapps, out of his pretty gold cracked-foil tea mugs. Eighteen or nineteen seems so long ago sometimes, though it was only a few years. He's organizing his bell jars while soaking asian energy drink bottles for an art project.
Yes, we are adults now.
(But not really.)
It's been a week since Thanksgiving, but the green bean casserole in the oven doesn't know that, so we aren't going to tell him. I bet by now he knows that we used soymilk instead of real milk... He'll just have to get over how runny he is. Its like he's adopted or something, geez.
Also, fakebeef stroganoff is bubbling on the stove. My hetero life partner is a vegetarian, so we crumbled up some Morning Star sausage pattie things and sauteed them with onion and mushrooms. Red onions because the yellow onion we had on hand has started to grow significantly. I'm talking half a foot of growth here, people.
Of course, instead of throwing it out, the boyfriend ran downstairs and planted it. Weirdo. It's one of the things I love about him though. He gets excited about the dumbest shit, running about like a chicken with its head cut off, sorting through his collection of Polaroid cameras, organizing his back issues of GQ by month.
We are some strange, strange people. Oh well.
Happy Christmas!
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