dreams are so weird

I'm not sure of the full dream, but I remember a snippet from last night's: I drank most of a glass of milk before realizing it had spoiled.

I suspect this may have been processing an incident earlier this week. A convenience store just opened very near my office (across as courtyard, basically). I bought a carton of milk and a thing of Pop Tarts. When I got to my desk and had my first sip of the milk, it was thick and goopy, even stringy--spoiled.

That is all.

A night in review

So, Dad called me today at 2 PM, wanted me to be at his house (a good forty minutes) by 5 PM for dinner and a movie.

I got there half an hour early. He's moved into a teeny half-townhouse thing in Red Bank and has like, no furniture. I helped him hang his San Fransisco-related memorabilia, then we went to dinner and I had the shittiest B-52 in the history of mixology, seriously. (Dear Bartender: Pro-tip, when somebody says she wants a B-52 shooter, she does not want Kahlua, Bailey's, and Grand Marnier mixed over ice--she wants a layered shooter. Any idiot knows a B-52 is judged more on appearance than on taste.)

On the other hand, the Lindblum Monkey Puncher is good.

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And, to share a nifty drink I figured out tonight:

The Alexandria Monkey Puncher
1 part Kahlua
1 part creme de banana
1 part Irish Cream

Layer equal parts Kahlua, creme de banana, and irish cream in a chilled shot glass. Enjoy.

So, in other words, a Lindblum Monkey Puncher without the milk or coffee and done as a shooter.