Oh and

Also? I love the look on Rachel Maddows's face every time Pat Buchanan speaks. I don't think you can fake that expression of "WTF? Are you serious? Wait, what the hell are you even talking about?"

DNC

I've been having a great time watching the Democratic National Convention. The speeches are spot-on, and watching history being made as Obama was officially nominated was a thrill.

My favorite thing so far, though, has been watching Chris Matthews's hair.

Ole!

I've been mourning my favorite summer drink, Zima, for several months now, since it appears to have disappeared from Seattle grocery store shelves.

But look what I found at Safeway yesterday:

I read a press release about this product going national back in January, but I have to say, I wasn't expecting to find it without a determined search of Latino grocery stores. Which, considering how I procrastinate, would probably happen in about 2015.

ANYWAY! Of course I had to buy it. I suspected I'd like it--I lurves me some Clamato. I'm not a huge beer drinker, but, having spent my 19th summer in Germany, I learned to like beer mixed with all sorts of things--lemonade, 7-Up, or ginger ale (aka a "Shanty" in various parts of the US), raspberry syrup, Cassis, strawberry or peach puree (any fruit puree, really), and even a seasonal specialty in some tiny town (I forget which): wild blueberries. Years later, I discovered and embraced the Beer Margarita.

So I was ready for this stuff. And it's awesome. It's already got lime and salt in it, and over ice, with a hefty dash of Habanero Tabasco, it's an unbelievably refreshing summer drink. And not sweet! (Did I mention that when I'm on the wagon, I frequently drink V8 and club soda with lime? It's kind of like a fizzy virgin Bloody Mary.)

(As an aside to everyone who is gagging, not just about the Chelada thing but about all beer cocktails...well. Beer mixed with a soft drink is like steak tartare: everyone is initally disgusted at the very idea, but those who are brave enough to try it are amazed. Also, it's an awesome way to make cheap beer more palatable. Which may be why it was so popular among my teenage relatives and friends that summer in Germany.)

Serious games

If you're like me, you're not all that into the Olympics, but you invariably find yourself watching at some point during the Games, simply because you spend time with other people, and other people watch them.

When this happens, I am torn between

1) making insufferably snarky comments through the entire thing, thereby annoying and alienating the people (usually beloved family members) who are watching and enjoying the Olympics with no irony at all, and

2) succumbing to my innate sentimentality and overly-empathetic nature and getting all weepy and shit (my stepmother is so dear to me and has such luridly corny taste that she has seen me, many times, reduced to tears by syndicated reruns of "Touched By An Angel".)

Slate.com to the rescue. Their intrepid staff has provided us with The Sap-O-Meter, "a list of 33 syrupy words that NBC chronically overused" in its past coverage of the Games.

I will list them here:

adversity, battled, cancer, challenges, courage, cry, death, dedication, determination, dream, emotion, glory, golden, hardship, heart, hero, inspiration, inspire, journey, magic, memory, miracle, mom, mother, Olympic-sized, overcome, passion, proud, sacrifice, spirit, tears, tragedy, triumph

This is excellent for when you need to excuse any cynical and snarky remarks you may utter ("Look, a smart, sassy, liberal website says it's ok to laugh at how sappy the coverage is!"), and also as a sort of smelling salts you can use on yourself to stop in its tracks any twinge of teary sap bubbling up from your solar plexus.

However! Slate.com has overlooked the true potential of these 33 words as uttered during the 2008 Summer Games.

Dear Readers: Let the Olympic Drinking Games begin!

At any point during coverage of the Olympics:

When anyone says any word on the Sap-o-Meter list: drink 1.

When anyone says any of the following: faith, heartbreak, triumph of the will: drink 2.

If any athlete says a curse word, even if you can only lip-read it: drink 1 (if you can hear it loud and clear, drink 3).

For any tears of disappointment, automatically drink 1, unless it's a figure skater or a gymnast, in which case the whiniest person in the room must drink 1.

If any gymnast falls off the uneven bars or injures him- or herself on the vault, gasp or moan in sympathy depending on how painful it looked and then drink 2.

If anyone falls while skating, the clumsiest person in the room must drink 2. If the skater's partner is visibly angry, punch the person sitting next to you.

***All drinking is tripled during Synchronized Swimming, Rhythmic Gymnastics, and Archery.***

Is it hot in here?

First, I would like to point out that I am the only person I know who actually sorta digs Rick Astley.  Seriously, I'm always kind of tickled when I get rick-rolled. (My friends won't be surprised to hear that. They've spent years trying to get me to confess that my owning CDs of three different productions of Jesus Christ Superstar, as well as two Celine Dion CDs that are entirely in French, which I neither speak nor remotely understand, is a big practical joke.) 

Second, it goes without saying that I digs me some Obama. So, um, dag. 

I know, he looks a little stiff. But watch those hips. You just know that once he's got a couple martinis in him, he trips the light FANTASTIC.

My secret? Sunscreen.

So I'm at the Ballard liquor store on Friday, because my sister told me about a drink in the latest Bon Appetit, the Widow's Touch. It's a variation on an old classic I hadn't heard of, the Widow's Kiss.

I want to try out the original, but they don't have ANY of the ingredients, which are Calvados, Yellow Chartreuse, and Benedictine (yes, it's an expensive drink). They do have one ingredient for the version in the magazine, Laird's Applejack, which I already keep in my liquor cabinet because it's so versatile in the fall. (Hot spiced cider! Applejack toddies! Hot Buttered Apple Grogs! Straight shots!)

Anyway, I end up buying  a bottle of Spudka. And I get carded.

/boggle.

Vindication

According to Peter Kramer's latest blog posting, new research suggests that exercise does not lessen depression and anxiety. This is not the first time I've heard of studies that contradict the idea that exercising counteracts mood disorders.

I already knew it, though. There have been times during my life when I exercised quite regularly. Sometimes my depressive episodes overlapped with the exercising periods. In fact, one of the worst episodes I ever had coincided with my being in the best physical shape of my life.

When I'm not depressed, exercise makes me feel good. When I'm depressed, it doesn't make me feel any worse, but it doesn't make me feel any better, either.

And now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go sit on the sofa and watch true crime shows.

Bye bye, carpet and crap

This is the truck and the guys who loaded it up with all my carpet and crap and took it away. Here they are loading holly from my dad's house. You can't really tell from this picture, but the guy on the left was DREAMY.

Seriously. Is there something in the water where these people work?

I am dumbfounded.

House full of crap

I am tearing up all the carpet in my house today. I'm also cleaning out the garage. Tomorrow some guys with a big truck are coming to haul everything away. I put a bunch of stuff I don't want anymore out in front of my house with a big sign that says "FREE", and two chairs are gone already, hooray.

Maybe I'll post before and after pictures tomorrow.