This is how you get in front of a story.

Hearne Christopher Jr. charged for allegedly getting lit and rolling through the ol’ PV. Who broke the story? Hearne Christopher Jr, duh. Because say what you will about the guy (major asshole, allegedly), he knows how to get ahead of the spin.

I don’t know if the po-po was flash-and-banging from the sight of the original incident (77th & Booth per Jr.) or not, but either way I don’t blame Jr. for carrying on until his car was safely ensconced in his own driveway because tow-and-impound charges can be a motherfucker.

A cursory search of Google News tells me the only media outlets to report on this so far (aside from HCJ’s blog) are the Plog (12 hours ago) and the Star (7 hours ago, because the 2 reporters left in that joint were probably busy with real-ish news). Did this make the local TV news? I don’t watch that crap ever since that our-reporter’s-trapped-in-a-burning-building shit because those d-bags are total hacks and unworthy of any attention whatsoever and also because ask around about a certain aging male Fox 4 reporter’s (alleged) shenanigans which are never reported on, just sayin’.

So, anyway, point being is when I’m arrested for being spit-roasted by an illegal immigrant and local radio host in a very public park(which I may or may not do regularly, allegedly) you, dear subscribers, will read it here first because Hearne has shown me the way. Praise blawgs!

UTAH: Testing the tensile strength of gullibility for over 100 years!

Betty Bowers for the win.

Thanksgiving, Episode I

Ladybird and I are hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for 25ish of our nearest and dearest tomorrow. We’ve split up a lot of the work and I’m very jazzed about how things are turning out. We’ve made a few concessions due to time, but the food’s going to be so tremendous, i don’t think anyone will mind drinking out of a plastic cup.

I’m providing dressing, mashed potatoes, gravy, braised mushrooms, a congealed salad (a fixture on my mother’s T-day table, recipe below the fold), a dip for the appetizer spread and two cocktails (pomegranate-rosemary champagne punch and celery juleps for the hard liquor crowd.

So far, I’ve made my mom’s (via Gramma Great) Orange Fluffy Salad, recipe below the fold:

The Make-Ahead Mashed Potatoes, currently in the fridge in my largest Le Creuset buffet casserole:

And the syrups for the cocktails (celery syrup below, a beautiful vivid green):

More crime in Longfellow.

Boo. Our neighborhood is experiencing a bizarre crime wave. For years, not much has gone down here with the exception of the occasional car break-in or plants being stolen from a front porch. First there was the YST B-and-E, then the police hanging out in my front yard and now this.

A famous convicted tax cheat in drag once declared, “…there are times when you help people and then there are times when, if you help people, you end up being killed. So you don’t help people.”

Words to live by, if you ask me.

I know the guy that got shot. He’s a decent and good man who, had he had time to consider the full ramifications of his actions, probably would have done the exact same thing. I wouldn’t have. Because y’all motherfuckers is crazy.

Stop everything.

This is the most important thing that has ever happened. Not since the Knob Creek shortage…

Seriously, you guys.

Angostura bitters are in short supply.

For the love of god, what about the Manhattans?!

So here’s a thing that happened.

You Say Tomato, the little Longfellow eatery right near my house was broken into last night. A person or persons unknown broke the glass from the front door and rifled through the place, also tampering with the cash register (per neighborhood grapevine). Coincidentally, I’m sure, at 4:30 this morning The Husband and I were awoken from our slumber by the sounds of an argument and fight in front of our house. We dont’ have a front yard to speak of, so when something’s going down outside it sounds like its happening on our front porch. Now all of this is per my Gladys Kravitz-y husband as I was to lazy to lift my head from the pillow, but he went from window to window trying to get the scoop (exactly what he yells at the dogs for when they hear another dog outside, btw). Apparently two folks were having a bit of a brawl which the po-po (you guys rock) broke up about 60 seconds after we heard it. Two cop cars and four officers pulled up and started slapping on the cuffs. I heard one of the arrestees tell an officer the other dude was lucky he didn’t shoot him. I count myself lucky as well as I wasn’t really relishing the thought of  leaping out bed to throw myself protectively over three greyhounds and one Elderly Cat. I guess one guy went downtown and the other one went to the hospital, as an am-buh-lanz and fire truck arrived shortly thereafter.

I don’t know if these two had anything to do with the break-in at YST, but I do have a bit of advice: if you find yourself getting into an argument and donnybrook on a public sidewalk in a residential neighborhood at 4:30 ack emma on a Monday morning, perhaps it’s time to sit down and reassess your life, because duh, you’re doing it wrong.

Maybe it’s just my post-Emmy drunk, but…

Bonnie Hunt’s portrayal of Kim Zolciak is spot-on and funny as shit.

Thanks Jaybird via Twitter.

And now, a word from Pink on the Kanye-Taylor Swift kerfuffle.

Via Twitter:

Kanye west is the biggest piece of shit on earth. Quote me.

8:31 PM Sep 13th from UberTwitter

Concision, thy name is Twitter.

RIP Patrick Swayze

Count me among his millions of fans. Road House, Dirty Dancing (my one and only girlfriend & I saw this on a double-date with my cousin and whatever annoying joker she was dating at the time) and Ghost are all favorites.

But the guiltiest of guilty pleasures in the Swayze ouevre? To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar.

Miss Vida Boheme, you will be missed.

Creepy as fuck.

Also fascinating, but serious heebie-jeebies.

And on a related shoe-beating note, a blast from the past which still brings a song to my heart:

Not to be messed with, indeed.