It’s Halloween and a costume party is kicking off. The room is filled with a priest, a clown, gum stuck under a chair, a missing sock, a sexy nurse, a civil war medic, Lenin, Spiderman, etc. Everybody is having a good time. Among the people stands Phil, dressed as the back of a horse from a two-man horse costume. He is talking to a woman dressed as a zombie.
ZOMBIE GIRL: So you’re supposed to be a horse’s ass, right?
PHIL: (sighing) No. My friend is supposed to be here as the front of the horse. He said he would meet me here, but I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes. I’m starting to look like –
ZOMBIE GIRL: A horse’s ass?
Rosco busts into the party, panting from running because of his lateness. Yet he too is wearing the rear end portion of a horse costume. He grabs a beer from a cooler and walks up to Phil.
ROSCO: Hey buddy. Sorry I’m late.
PHIL: Ros, what the hell are you doing?
ROSCO: Having a beer after I ran ten blocks to get here. I know I said I’d be here sooner, but there’s like no parking spaces around this neighborhood. I parked down on Adams and Vermont and then just booked it here. I certainly got some strange looks, even for Halloween. You’d think for a horse costume they would make it easier to run in. But at least I didn’t have to worrying about what to do with the head . . .
Rosco finally notices which end of the horse Phil is wearing.
ROSCO: Why are you wearing the end?
PHIL: Because I said I would be the end so you would get to be the head.
ROSCO: What are you talking about? I was going as the horse-butt because I made you shave your head last year so you could be Lex Luthor to my Superman.
PHIL: Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?
ROSCO: I wanted it to be a surprise! Why did you think that I’d screw you out of the cool part of the costume?
PHIL: Because you’ve been screwing me out of the good costumes for fifteen years!
ROSCO: Which was why I was gonna be the better man and let you take the lead.
PHIL: You should have told me!
ROSCO: You should have trusted me!
PHIL: (turning to Zombie Girl) Can you believe this guy?
ZOMBIE GIRL: (giggling) You both seem like asses to me.
ROSCO: (scoffing) It’s like there’s nothing you can do about that joke. It’s coming, and you just have to stand there.
PHIL: But she’s right! We’re just two losers who can’t coordinate now.
ROSCO: (putting his beer down) Maybe not. I have an idea.
Rosco edges towards Phil, who just stands there eying Rosco with suspicion. Rosco slowly hugs Phil, bringing the edges of the costumes together so they look like a horse made out of rear sections. They stand there, shifting slightly.
ROSCO: (turning slightly so his tail is pointing at Zombie Girl) Well? Do we look cool?
ZOMBIE GIRL: You look like an abomination.
ROSCO: We can work with that!
Phil pushes Rosco away.
PHIL: Get away from me.
Phil storms out of the party. Rosco leaves in the other direction. The Zombie Girl stands by herself. Rosco comes back in.
ROSCO: You’re a cute zombie. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in a moment.
He finishes his beer in as few gulps as possible, and then leaves.
20 MINUTES LATER
Rosco, dressed as the front half of the horse now, is back as the party and talking with Zombie Girl. His arms are poking out of the costume, holding another beer.
ROSCO: – see now I’m just a fucked up centaur.
PHIL: (from the front door) YOU SON OF A BITCH!
Phil has also returned to the party and is also now dressed like the front of the horse.
ROSCO: You’ve got to be kidding me.
Phil begins to scream. Rosco pours the rest of the beer in his costume’s mouth, throws the beer to the ground, and also begins to scream. They run towards each other and start to fist fight, punching each other in the costume heads. Everybody at the party starts taking pictures of the two fighting.
20 MINUTES LATER
Phil and Rosco sit on the curb in front of the house. They each drink a beer while they look at photos on Rosco’s phone of the two of them fighting.
PHIL: I told you people would get a kick of it.
I witnessed this during a 4th of July party at a house named Ghost Gardens. The owner of the house wanted to . . .
You know, I don’t think an explanation is fitting here. While it’s sort of a cop-out to rely on the bizarreness by not giving an explanation, I’m not entirely sure that explaining exactly what is going on would help you understand it any more. Just know there were goats around the stage, doorknobs sticking out of the ground, and baskets filled with spoons nailed to the walls.
A sparkling, fruity, pretty party drink.
ENOUGH!!! Enough with this weight-loss nonsense, am I right?! I know why you all started following me in the first place, and that’s liquor Liquor LIQUOR!!! Life is too short to worry about fitness all the time. All these months of being supportive and informative has left a bad taste in my mouth (Bad taste or sobriety? Is there a difference?), and it’s time to get back to my hardcore roots.
What is that, a celery stick? Stick it in some vodka before I lose you all respect for you! Doing push-ups? Pfffbtbt, it’s only cool if you’re attempting to get off of the pub floor . . . and failing. Is that a beer? MIX IT WITH SOME SCOTCH! It’s time to put down the barbell and pick up the bar glass, and we’ll start with my brand new drink called . . . the hanging . . . rose . . .
Hmmmm. Okay, I may have gone a bit overboard with the enthusiasm at first, but this drink is still a lovely addition to any afternoon get-together. And it’s a layered drink, so people will think you’re all talented, or whatever.
The Hanging Rose
– Rum (1 shot)
– Club Soda
– Green Food Coloring
– Rose Extract (in theory)
I first started working on this drink about five years ago, when a friend and I were having a drink before going to some house party. “Make up a drink, right here, right now,” he shouted at me. Mixing the only ingredients I had (vodka, lime juice and grenadine), I created the first version of The Hanging Rose. It was pretty, but also tasted like that one time I was so tired I accidentally brushed my teeth with dish soap instead of toothpaste. Since then I have been striving to get the drink to something more palatable.
- Pour into a glass one shot of white rum.
- Fill glass halfway with champagne.
- Fill ¼ of the glass with club soda.
- Tilt the glass slightly, and slowly pour the grenadine down the side of the glass, letting it pool on the bottom. This is the same effect as you would see in a Tequila Sunrise and will create the “flower” portion of the drink.
- You’ll want to wait a minute before adding the grenadine. Our champagne/club soda mixture is thinner than orange juice, and the grenadine will mix more easily in it, so take a moment and let the liquid settle (e.g. stop swirling, moving) before adding the grenadine for the best visual effect.
- Add a tiny, tiny drop of green food coloring right in the middle of the glass, creating the “stem” of the drink. Because the food coloring will spread like crazy if the drink is moving even a little, you might want to consider serving the drink before adding the food coloring. The look of the drink is far more impressive if the top half of the glass isn’t entirely green. As you can see from the pictures, waiting is not something I did.
- Ooh and ahh over the look of the drink, then mix with a spoon, go, “that doesn’t look so bad,” at the new dark cream color of the drink, and continue on with what you were originally doing.
In all honesty, this drink is a work in progress as it still feels like it is missing something. If I had thought about it sooner than five minutes before I started taking the pictures for this post, I would have gone out and tried to find some Extract of Rose to add to the drink. I would also suggest using a champagne flute rather than the tumbler I used; I thought I had one until I remembered I threw it out the window one New Year’s Eve. But still, the drink is fruity, floral and light, perfect for a bridal shower, or perhaps a brunch. The club soda can help take that dryness off of the champagne, the grenadine adds a different sweetness to the party, and the shot of rum helps the drink pack a bit more of a wallop. This may be a feminine drink, but I know more than a few ladies that can easily drink me under the table.
How do I – ow – love thee?
Let me count the ways;
. . .
. . . uh . . .
Well, there’s . . . no . . .
The highs aren’t as sweet if we do not travel to the low –
. . .
No, that’s not right . . .
. . . uhh, love is pain and – ow . . . no . . .
. . .
. . . I feel your love through every dry heave, through every churn in my stomach, through every pound in my head . . . no, that’s stupid . . .
Shit, I got nothing.
Fuck you Hangover, you dirty, filthy, rat-faced, sucker-punching, pig-tailed, knee-biting, party-crashing sonofabitch bastard. Your cousin Hammered and his little brother Tipsy are just so cool, but they always bring you along for the ride because their mother feels guilty that no one likes you.
. . .
I’d say good riddance, but I know I’m going to be seeing you again tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And for the rest of my life.
It Took Me All Day To Write This Because My Head Hurts So Much