Rick Santorum suspended his GOP presidential campaign yesterday, but we all know more anti-gay, anti-woman asshattery is probably still forthcoming. Who would be surprised if he ends up with his very own gig on Fox News a la Sarah Palin? Not us! Obviously we’re going to need a good amount of booze to deal with such a turn of events and that’s why we’re thrilled a NYC bar has debuted a frothy brown beverage that it’s calling the Santorum. As the sicker-minded amongst us are aware, “Santorum” is sex columnist Dan Savage’s name for “the frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex.”
The $8 Santorum cocktail at the Brooklyn bar Pacific Standard, however, is a feast for more delicate palettes: Baileys Irish Cream, orange-flavored vodka, Angostura bitters, and Godiva dark chocolate flakes. Sounds mmm-mmm-good. Perhaps we’ll knock back a few on Election Night? [Slate]
We are all familiar with “beer goggles,” otherwise known as the only reason anything happens on “Jersey Shore” ever. Recently, scientists with too much time on their hands have discovered just how “beer googles” work and how they’re harder on lady drinkers. Haha, very funny, Mother Nature. Keep reading »
In case you were wondering what space tastes like when fermented with your favorite varietal, you’ll be eager to try Meterorito, a Cabernet Sauvignon infused with a piece of 4.5 billion-year-old meteor rock. Winemaker Ian Hutcheon procured the meteor, which is believed to have crashed into the desert in Chile 6,000 years ago, from an American collector. Hutcheon claims that the meteor makes the flavors “livelier” and “more potent.” When you sip a glass of this wine, you’ll be “drinking elements from the birth of the solar system,” he says. Yes, please. I’ll take a case. Is that a nose of Jupiter I detect on my palate, with a hint of Mars, and a base note of the Big Bang? [Oddity Central]
Drunken logic is a beautiful thing. When that perfect amount of booze sloshes around the canals of your brain, dipping here, crashing there, telling you that it’s probably a really good idea to steal lipstick from your friend’s girlfriend, apply that lipstick on your mouth, approach an attractive woman coming out of the bar and pretend that the two of you just made out in the bathroom. Keep reading »
“Trying to ruin someone else’s life is a poor way to address one’s alcohol and self-control problems.”
This is true. But is this really the most intelligent — to say nothing of compassionate — thing for an advice columnist to say to someone whose friend was possibly date raped?
No, Dear Prudence at Slate.com, it was not.
Keep reading »
“She doesn’t drink,” my Mom said when someone offered me a glass of champagne at my sister’s wedding last summer.
“Mom!” I hissed. “Can you say ‘She doesn’t like to drink’? People are going to think I’m a recovering alcoholic!”
But after nodding no time and again to waiters coming around to refill wine and passing my empty glasses back to them, I noticed that to the casual bystander, I appear to be a recovering alcoholic. I don’t know anyone else who just doesn’t drink because they don’t like to, and won’t even have a sip of champagne for a toast. Unless they are sober. Which is when I realized that I have a lot in common with recovering alcoholics. Keep reading »
Rachel Maddow isn’t just good at looking cute and making politicians look like idiots. She is also an amateur mixologist. (Good skill to have if that whole MSNBC hosting gig falls through.) Last night on “Late Night,” Rachel taught Jimmy Fallon how to do “pickleback” shots, which is one shot each of Jameson and pickle juice. “It’s a little weird,” she says. The word she’s looking for is revolting. [I find them delicious, actually. -- Editor] But I’d still drink them, because Rachel Maddow made them. And also, there’s something in pickle juice that makes it a good hangover cure. I’m sold. [Hulu.com]
A reader snapped a pic of something freaky at the Zurich airport: GIRL, a lychee strawberry liquor “for women only.” Let me tell you something: if you bring a big purple bottle of fruity liquor to a party, you’re not getting invited back. Unless that party is the first night of Pride Week or a sleepover with 15-year-olds watching “Sex and the City 2.” You fail, booze marketers.
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If you write for a living — especially opinion writing, and especially as a feminist — you set yourself up for criticism. You really have no control over how others respond to your work, other than choosing not to write it. By attaching your name to your views, you put yourself in the position to be agreed with, judged, lauded, mocked, quoted reverently, misinterpreted, called somebody others “must read”, called crazy or ugly or both. I’ve experienced all these things at some point in my career.
It sucks, though, when the worst of those experiences happen from within the feminist community. Keep reading »