Recommended sip for today’s entry: OK, I am Facebook friends with a wine. Hey, you don’t get to a HUGE number like 159 friends without including such pals as Bonterra and Ashton Kutcher. (I love them both very much.) Anyway, here is a recipe for Bonterra Sangria that was posted on the Facebook page. (http://www.facebook.com/index.php?lh=ffe1013dadf9ea3b11ac7f6bfb0e3bc8&eu=XBQ2tI6oXgKkAJWDSzGjLw#!/pages/Bonterra/154465757078?ref=ts):
1 750 ml Bonterra Zinfandel
1 cup CHAMBORD®
1 pint raspberries (optional)
1 small lemon, sliced
1 small orange, sliced
¼ cup brown sugar
Mix all ingredients in a large pitcher. Cover and refrigerate overnight or for at least 4 hours. Serve on the rocks. Makes 6-8 servings.
NOTE: IF YOU HAVE ANY KIND OF HEART, YOU WILL E-MAIL ME YOUR HORRIBLE SCHOOL PHOTOS. THIS IS SO I DON’T FEEL ALONE IN MY MISERY AND TAKE LIKE A THOUSAND QUAALUDES OR SOMETHING. OK, I’m not really gonna take like a thousand quaaludes. I don’t even know what they are actually, but seriously, I need to know there are other losers out there. Really. Send me your pics — I’ll do a follow-up blog.
I’m thinking a refreshing sangria can make even the most horrifying childhood flashbacks seem amusing.
My friend Susan and I recently had a conversation about hideous school pictures and I was sure there was no way hers could be worse than mine. But then I saw hers and spewed a roostertail of coffee across the room. Wow. I’ll get a copy and share it with you in the near future. Because it’s the stuff childhood nightmares are made of. You are going to like it very much.
But she only had one horrifying experience. It was routine for me.
If you’re decrepit like me, you remember when we had to ORDER our stupid pictures before they even took them. Our parents selected our package and turned in the money even before they sat us on the stool of shame in front of the mottled blue backdrop. It was a total crapshoot and one I never won.
Now, however, there are NO ugly teenagers. Or at least there aren’t any ugly teenagers in pictures.
And that is because hideous pictures were essentially eradicated by the invention of digital cameras.
I can hear it now. “Yeah, my mom is so old that they didn’t even have digital cameras. I mean it. They had this photographer come to school and take one picture and THAT was the one that was in the yearbook. Seriously, dude. One shot. One fraction of a second, forever commemorated in the school yearbook.”
Well, during that fraction of a second in third grade, I was throwing a sly, lecherous look at some hot boy in my arithmetic class. Or someone whistled at me and I gave them a smug, coy look.
Or I was just butt ugly.
Now, as you can clearly see, I was no beauty. But I didn’t look THIS bad. I mean, the teeth looked strikingly similar to my horse, Bimbo’s, and the haircut looked like my mother had “trimmed it up” that morning (she probably had).
But the sleepy eye thing? I mean, this makes Nicolas Cage look like he just took a double shot of Five Hour Energy.
I don’t remember much of third grade, but as you can see by the creases in the picture, I am assuming that I was none too pleased with this abysmal rendering.
Never again, I vowed. I’ll never allow myself to look that bad in a school picture again. At least, not until seventh grade:
Now, I could blame the lady who snatched my glasses off of my face a nanosecond before the man snapped the picture. I could blame puberty. I could blame my mother for letting me leave the house with that hair, that shirt, eeks … that puckered white vest and Bimbo’s teeth. But I don’t blame anyone.
Because any kid who had THIS picture in the middle school yearbook but still kept getting up in the morning and tossing her smiley face purse over her shoulder and going to school … no matter what you say, any kid who survived THIS had to have grown into a stronger human for having done so.
The perfect illustration of the perseverence of youth.
OK, don’t leave me dangling out here by myself … email me YOUR heinous pictures at firstname.lastname@example.org. PLEASE!