Christmas is here again, and the same wackos are at the mall. Truthfully I wished they would stay home and make fruitcake (favorite recipe to follow).
Since when do people get to use strollers as weapons? When the fuck did this become universally accepable? Well its not Ms. Soccer mom, run over my toes or bang me in the ankles again and may baby Jesus have mercy on your soul because your bleached blonde ass is going to need it.
When did prostitute become the latest fashion trend and why? I have never seen so many ladies of the night at the mall before. If this is the big look this season - I am so glad to be behind the times so to speak. Fuck that, I am keeping my hoo hoo covered thank you Britney & Lindsay.
Seriously though I am not as cranky this year as it seems, I promise.. This year is lower key for us. Less presents less fuss. Soon it will be a new year and with that will bring my new years unresalutions and my anniversary letter to my husband.
Now as promised my favorite fruit cake recipe..
a cup of water
a cup of sugar
four large brown eggs
two cups of dried fruit
a teaspoon of salt
a cup of brown sugar
lemon from your neighbor's tree
nuts from last walnut grove on Piedmont Rd.
a bottle of whiskey.
Sample the whiskey to check for quality.
Take a large bowl. Put it down somewhere.
Check the whiskey again.
To be sure it's the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink.
Turn on the electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in that large, fluffy bowl.
Add one teaspoon of sugar and beat again.
Make sure the whiskey is still okay.
Cry another tup.
Turn off the mixer! It's splattered dough everywhere!
Beat two leggs and add to the fluffy bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.
Mix on the tuner.
If the fired druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver.
Sample the whiskey to check for tonsisticity... Whew is it hot in here ?
Okay.. Next, sift two cups of salt... or something.
Check the whiskey.
Now sift the lemon ... urp ... juice and strain your nuts.
Add one table ... spoon ... of sugar or something ... Who cares? Whatever the heck you can find.
Grease the oven.
Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees.
Don't forget to beat off the turner.
Check the whishkey again.
Throw up in the bowl and go to bed.