Matt and I just got back from our annual Christmastime trip to Orlando and saw my daytime TV girlfriend Kelly Ripa (and Regis Philbin) taping the Walt Disney World Christmas Parade. La Ripa is extremely tiny and her hair was Pantene beautiful as you can see...
The weekend was also our opportunity to get together with my very best gal pal Roberta. Matt, Roberta and I along with Roberta's new latino boy toy spent Saturday night lighting up the Parliament House...well actually Santa and his go-go boy reindeer turned the lights we simply watched.
Parliament is one of those gay hangouts that everyone should experience at least once. It is rough around the edges, but still charming and fun.
Matt rented a beautiful Cadillac for the weekend. It was an amazing ride, but I am sure I looked like I was operating the Ho Train out on Orange Blossom Trail trying to get a very tipsy Roberta into the car at 2 AM. Ah Florida...I miss you already...
1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
6 large eggs
2 teaspoons baking powder
3 cups flour, sifted
1/2 t. salt
1 cup bourbon
1 pound pecans, chopped
3 cups white raisins (or use candied fruit)
1 t. nutmeg
AND
~ a very large bottle of bourbon whiskey ~
First, sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Assemble all of the ingredients. Check the whiskey again.
To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Repeat this step.
Turn on the electric mixer and beat one cup of butter in a large
fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar and cream until beat.
Make sure the whiskey is still okay... try another cup.
Turn off the mixer. Beat six leggs and add to the bowl,
then chunk in the cup of dried flut. Mix on the tuner.
Throw in two quarts of flour. Gradually pour in the cow.
Add 2 dried anything.
If the fried druit gets struck in the beaters, pry it loose with
a drewscriver. Sample the whiskey and check it again for tonsistency.
Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Who cares???
Check the whiskey again.
Now sift the nutmeg and strain your nuts. Add one table.
And the spoon. Of whiskee. Or something. Whatever you find left.
Grease the oven.
Turn the crake pan to 350 degrees. Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Pour the oven into the batter. Throw the bowl out the window.
Lick the batter off the floor.
Bake 300 minutes at 50 degrees.
Finish the blobble of whishy and flow to bed.
It's pretty much straight-out singing of songs I like: "Ave Maria," "Angels We Have Heard on High," "O Come All Ye Faithful"… the classics. And the arrangements aren't fussy either.
Take a bow, Josh Groban. (The CD title is even simple: Noel, though the much ballyhooed duet with Faith Hill is a big dud…but so is she it seems these days. She has kind of gone off the deep end since the American Idol princess started beating her for all those rhinestone-studded country music trophies…but that’s for another day.
These are my current favorite Christmas collections:
Josh Groban, Noel
London Symphony Orchestra, The Nutcracker & Other Orchestral Christmas Favorites.
James Taylor, At Christmas.
Bette Midler, Cool Yule.
Vince Gill, Let There Be Peace on Earth.
Rosemary Clooney, White Christmas.
Jim Brickman, The Gift.
The Gift has been my No. 1 for a couple of years. It's mostly just Brickman playing piano simply and beautifully. The title cut, though, features vocals, and if the song isn't strictly Christmasy, it's still a moving romantic ballad.
Also, the strange piano player’s Valentine that he recorded with country diva Martina McBride a few years ago holds a special place for the bf and me. So he makes my Christmas list too…even if he is kind of creepy.
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CPSteve
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I almost bought the CD. Now I'll have to check it out.
I worry that someone with an RV will visit me. (Fortunately I do not have a driveway for them to park).
I worry that I will know someone who buys a Hummer. (any vehicle that needs a ladder to climb into is too large)
I worry that Katherine Harris will run for something again.
I worry that I'll wake up one morning and want to get a tongue piercing. (OK...maybe I don't worry about this one as much)
I worry that I'll accept hip-hop as a true lyrical art form.
I worry that I'll get in my car and want to drive to Indiana or Wisconsin.
I worry that gas will cost $4 a gallon.
I worry that I'll be stuck in an elevator with a bigot.
I worry that there really may be as many hit men and serial killers as you see in movies and TV shows.
I worry that I'll want to get a $400 haircut. (though any priced cut is needed today)
I worry that shoulder pads will come back.
I worry that I worry too much.
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lilzuzu87
Total blog posts: 1
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JustinBoltz
Total blog posts: 1
MyPride friends: 1
Recently, however, her love affair with the City of Big Shoulders was strained somewhat.
You see it seems our girl Gwyneth likes coming to Chicago because we don't have creeps with cameras hiding in every bush to take her picture...or at least she thought. Imagine her surprise and dismay when her limo pulled up to The Peninsula on Friday and she was hit with the Brangelina/UN Baby Tour entourage camped out in front! She was overheard saying: "When Brad and Angelina leave, won't they (the paparazzi) go too? Don't you think they sort of blow in and out with the celebs?"
I guess this means our toddlin' town is growing up when the international camera set have not one, but three celebs to snap, all in Chicago, at the same time. We have either ascended the world-class stairs another level or descended closer to the gates of Hell...you be the judge.
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