Drink Skinny This New Year's Eve, and Into the New Year

New Year's Eve is the perfect opportunity to drink smart -- and no, I don't just mean taking advantage of free public transportation or making a resolution to read something besides the comic strips... I mean the actual drink of choice on this night -- champagne (or sparkling wine, depending on your preferred region) is a favorite of the Hollywood glamorous and skinny models all over the world.  And we know they know what's what.

Sparkling wine is low in carbs - usually about 5 per glass for the dryer varietals ("brut", in champagne speak).  The sweetest varietal is only 10 carbs per glass -- not bad, considering most nights out find us slurping on sugary mixed drinks and artificially flavored liqueurs.  And you can count on fewer than 100 calories per glass of this celebratory libation. 

If you don't want to drink the stuff straight (or simply want to mask the taste of a not-so-great, yet affordable bubbly) you have plenty of options that will still keep you in healthy mode --as long as you mix accordingly.  Here are a few of Liquor Chick's favorite champagne-inspired recipes (and take-offs on some un-chick worthy ones), that will keep your calories down, and your fun up tonight.  Cheers to a fabulous New Year!

Chick Champagne Cobbler

1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1/2 oz. orange-infused vodka

orange slice

champagne

Fill goblet with crushed ice. Add lemon juice, orange and vodka and stir.  Top off with champagne and stir gently again. 125 calories

 

Magna Carta, Chickified

1 1/2 oz. tequila

1/2 oz. orange-infused vodka

1/4 oz. Blue Agave Nectar

Champagne

Add nectar, tequila and vodka and stir.  Add ice, then champagne and stir gently. 140 calories - but remember, tequila breaks up fat and lowers cholesterol so the extra few calories are well-spent!

 

Lightened Up Poinsettia (featured in South Shore Woman's December Issue of Wink Webzine)

½ oz. Orange-infused vodka*

Brut Sparkling Wine

Splash light cranberry juice (or make your own – it’s so easy!)

Tsp. Organic Blue Agave Nectar

In a champagne flute, stir together agave nectar and chilled vodka.  Add sparkling wine, and top with cranberry juice.  For extra holiday spirit, muddle some fresh cranberries in bottom of glass with the nectar.

 

Pear Sparkler

 

1/2 oz. Pear-infused Vodka

Brut Sparkling Wine

Splash Light Cranberry Juice (or make your own!)

 

1/2 tsp. Blue Agave Nectar

 

Start with (chilled) vodka and nectar in bottom of champagne flute. Stir thoroughly.  Add the sparkling wine. Top with splash of cranberry juice. 130 calories

 

If you want to make this as a punch for some sort of party (New Years Eve, anyone?), then keep to these ratios:

1 part Vodka
2 parts Sparkling Wine
1 part Juice

 

Other tips when drinking something besides plain champagne:

·     Avoid Kir Royales or other similar type drinks that call for the addition of high-sugared liqueurs to the bubbly. 

·     If you must add something, add natural infused spirits like orange-infused or cranberry-infused vodka to keep your carbs down.

·     Have one glass of water for every glass of champagne consumed throughout the night.  It will keep your pace down, and help to keep you hydrated so that you avoid the mother hangover of them all - NEW YEARS DAY!

·     And one last thing - Toast to the Liquor Chick way of life, in this year and beyond!!

 

 

 

Homemade All Natural Cranberry Juice -- For Mixers Of Course!

It really does pay to be married to me. Well, okay - only if you like your drinks. But I think it's a pretty nice surprise when your lucky spouse comes home after a long day, and finds that you've made him a nice, home-made....dinner? Nope, not in this kitchen. ...cranberry juice! I can just see his excitement now.

Why would I make it when it is so readily available, you may ask. Well, I have turned over a new leaf to be healthy, not just in what I eat and how often I exercise -- that's easy, and I've always been good about those things. But, now I have added "healthy drinking" to my repertoire of interests. Yes, the drinking interest has always been there, but why can't we find healthy alternatives to our favorite mixed drinks? Well, one mixer at a time, you can. Right here.

So here's the recipe for the all-natural cranberry juice. While it was simmering, I also juiced a few oranges, limes and lemons. Think all-natural Cosmo when the weary husband comes home. And hey, if it just ends up being for me, then that's ok too. We both win. I'll have to think of something manly for all those fresh squeezed ingredients for you men. Scotch recipes to follow, perhaps.

Anyway, back to the cranberry juice recipe:

2 bags fresh cranberries - look for bright red, firm berries.
6 cups water
1/2 cup Blue Agave Nectar (most recipes call for a cup of sugar. Blue Agave Nectar is an organic, all-natural sugar substitute that has a nice smooth, sweet flavor. I use it instead of sugar now everywhere.)

Bring cranberries and water to a boil. Loosely cover and simmer for 15 minutes, until all berries have exploded. Strain through cheesecloth, being careful not to press to hard on the berries. Put liquid back onto stove, stir in the Blue Agave Nectar and return to a boil. Then reduce heat and let simmer for 3 minutes. Remove from heat and allow to cool to room temperature before placing in refrigerator.

Drink and enjoy. Well, actually, mix and enjoy. I've been infusing some vodka with oranges for a few days. My cosmopolitan will use this instead of sugary Cointreau, along with fresh cranberry juice and fresh lime juice. Oh, and of course the regular vodka too. Is it really only Tuesday? Oh well, I am sure you can find a reason to enjoy one of these with me. Antioxidants, vitamins, mixologist's pride. You'll think of something.

For more recipes, reviews and all things booze, please visit my website.

Putting Low Carb Drink Mixers to the Liquor Chick Taste-Test, Part I

I have been checking out the low calorie mixed drinks scene for quite some time now. As a bartender I often make (as well am was asked to make) lighter margaritas, cosmopolitans and other flavored martinis. These are one-off's, made on the fly -- yet usually to ravishing reviews. It wasn't hard when I had a top shelf and upscale selection of booze, fresh fruit and my imagination. But I've wondered, could I replicate these in my own home? Better yet, were there any already made low calorie mixers that I could employ both at home, and even at the bar, that would satisfy this obvious hole in the market?

Cue the testing (and by that i mean 'tasting') lab.... I set out to the liquor store with the plan to buy low carb mixers. I was not alone on this very important journey. Yet I am not ashamed to admit that my four year old, Nintendo DS in hand, accompanied me on this trip, because I did not purchase any alcohol. Had she ever been there before, you may ask, on other missions? Well, not to incriminate myself, but she did exclaim when we entered "Oh mommy- we are in the colorful store again!" I don't know, I think she may be confusing Curtis Liquors with the local nail salon, but, irregardless, I met her observation with a casual "Yes I suppose there ARE a lot of colors in here." Never one to admit anything character-flawing.

And when lovey daughter made her way to the checkout counter 10 minutes later with me and knowingly asked where the lollipop basket had gone, I clarified the issue just as knowingly by refuting, more for the staff than my daughter "Why, yessss, this does look just like the bank. You must be confusing this place with that one."

Smarter-than-a-fifth-grader lovey daughter didn't buy it and immediately shot back at me with a know-it-all, correct-your-dumb-mother attitude in her voice that I can only assume she'll continue to perfect well into her adolescence, and scoffed, "Noooowa (I love how one word syllables become three when you're a 'tude strutting female)! We were just AT the BANK - remember?? You said you needed to get money for the WINE store?! THIS wine store!?" Love to be called out by the little princess. But I was righteous today. There was no wine in my carriage. Just a pre-schooler, her stuffed penguin, dirty security blanket and about 15 'Bahama Bob' NONALCOHOLIC mixers. Ha! Take a lollipop, and put it in your lovey mouth, princess.. So we drove off, each of us looking forward to something when we got home. Lovey daughter, a jelly and fluff sandwich for her and her penguins to enjoy. And about eight different varieties of low-carb no-guilt mixed drinks for Mom. But how would they taste? And on marshmallow-tipped fingers, no less? We'd have to wait 'till later into Thirsty Thursday to find that out. And I hoped I could wrestle up some tasting buddies....

Hangovers Happen - How to Handle Them Best

I am feeling it this morning. No, not the tequila drinks. At least I didn't throw the Liquor Chick book completely out the window and drink Margaritas all night. I did choose the most healthy option I could at the Country Club affair that drew nearly 100 people to support a great cause. Yes, I raised my white wine glass often and whole-heartedly. It was, after all, a seemingly open bar.

(Well, not really, but that's how it feels when all you have to do is walk up to the bartender and get handed your drink. Belonging to a country club, no matter how few holes of golf it contains, has its advantages -- numbers instead of money. True the numbers translate into a big monthly number that must be paid at some point, but when you're living in the look-at-my-new-hair and dance-the-night-away moments, it all feels free...)

So white wine after white wine was handed to me with nothing more than a nod and a smile. Those wines certainly kept me smiling. And, yes, I may have overdone it a bit. No harm was done, no mystery bruises today. But the effects of the occasional too-much-fun night can last far into the next day if we let them.

So, how can you undo some of the wrongs that you have done to your body? Even Liquor Chick slips up, indulges too much, and has some unChick-worthy moments. But what's most important is how you handle your missteps. Whether you own up to them, or allow them to engulf you and drag you into a next-day binge of sloth, unhealthiness and general malaise. It would be easy to sleep till 9:30, lay on the couch all day, eat greasy food and even keep on drinking. But that is the time where you show your true colors. And let's hope they are pink, purple and blue (Liquor Chick logo - oh, you got that? Yes, I am still a bit groggy - wasn't sure).

Okay, so you've admitted your mistakes .But let's not be too hard on ourselves - it was after all, for a good cause, and you needed the night out just a little bit (a little bit more than a zillion percent, right?). And now you are determined to reassert your healthy practices the very next day. You may have done a little late-night munching, or even converted your 80 calorie glass of wine to a late night, fattening beer (gasp!). Admit your indiscretions and move on. And what can you do to undo what you've done? Start with hydration.

As soon as you awake, guzzle 2 big glasses of water. What's that? You need some Aleve to go along with that water? Sore from dancing, are you? Wine head? Yes, Aleve is recommended. Actually, take twice the recommended dosage (it's okay to do this just this once, but don't make it a habit or your stomach will start feeling like the pepper-infused vodka I made - pure hellish fire) and if you can, and your husband is awesome like mine, go back to sleep for an hour.

Then, when you wake the next time, immediately eat some lean meat and eggs. Protein and a little bit of grease will help with the reabsorbing of the alcohol. Today I made a turkey burger and veggie egg-white omelet. Mr. LQ wanted egg yolks in it, but I had to counter the effects of the heavy h'ordeuvres I inhaled around 11 p.m. so I denied that request.

And then, after breakfast, you've got to sweat it out. I forgot to mention that I added some Serrano peppers to the omelet too, for the same reason. Perspiration leads you back to perfection. Our exercise of choice today was driveway basketball - Him vs. Me. Yeah, he won, but he didn't have 8 glasses of 80-calorie wine last night. He only had two light beers. He beat me at my own game in that respect. And in basketball too. This time.

And keep the water flowing. Have a small snack after your workout. A banana is a good choice. The potassium helps speed the hangover along too. PowerAde or Gatorade - but only the sugar free variety - iwould be wise too, and adds the needed electrolytes back in to your wine-wrought bod.

Don't give in to your heavy eyes, no matter how hard it seems. I know all you'll want to do is lay on the couch and watch football - especially after struggling through making and cleaning up breakfast and then a mean game of hoops. But keep busy -- that's the best hangover advice. Some people believe in hair of the dog - that is, drinking again the next day to ward off a hangover. I'm not going to lie - I've tried it. I don't prescribe to this theory though, because all it does is delay the inevitable. And would you rather have your hangover on Monday morning while trying to dress them, bathe them, pack lunches, find homework, make the school bus, drive to preschool, work for husband-boss, clean house after weekend mess, get 4-year old ready and to dance class, drive to CCD and actually cook some sort of home-made dinner??? Nope, I prefer my hangovers, when they come, to be on Sunday. So resist the urge to go out to Hangover Lunch - or hangover movie theatre concession stand - or hangover ice cream snack - or hangover Chinese food dinner. You'll be glad you did on Monday.

A truly schooled Liquor Chick will know that what you do the day after you fall off the Chick-mobile is way more important than actually falling off. We are human. We are going to slip up. So you didn't have sugar-free cranberry juice in your vodka last night. So you chugged a couple beers with your gambling buddies (Did I mention it was a Casino party??) You're allowed to live it up once in a while. But make sure you go right back to living the better way as soon as you can. Take it from me. And okay, grab a light beer for Sunday Night Football and tell yourself you are still Liquor Chick-worthy.

Caffeine and Alcohol Together? A Bartender Would NEVER do That, Right??

I know this is probably a stretch, but has anyone ever had Rum & Coke? (That would be Diet Coke for the sake of Liquor Chick living -- always keep it low calorie when you can!) A few of you? Hmmm. How about Baileys (light Baileys recipe, right?) with coffee? Anyone? After-dinner wine, alongside of your skinny cappuccino? I know - unheard of. Oh, and what about this combination ....Red Bull & Vodka? I know these drinks are probably vastly unheard of. And you must also know that the sarcasm is dripping as thick as the Low Calorie Baileys that you would never add to that coffee.

Oh, you would? Me too! And when we make the mixture ourselves, I will bet that your bartender, much like my own, adds more than the one-shot serving, to lighten it up to your liking? And your Red Bull probably contains more than one shot of vodka -- I am just guessing. So when you control your own pour, you may in fact add more than the suggested serving. And does anyone open up a beer and pour anything else in there? Not likely.

What's the point these questions? Well, if you side with authorities that want to ban caffeinated malt liquor products, you may argue that these types of drinks make our young people drink more and faster. My side of the argument goes something like this: Products don't make us drink more, faster, harder -- the stupid quotient that is present in all of us, to varying degrees, does that just fine. You can't ban a certain modus operandi of our stupid -- you need to educate the stupid out of us in the first place.

And isn't that what society, our parents, school, public service announcements, books, friends, and studies all aim to do? What? You say the college student population will still drink too much, perform keg stands, throw up, and end up with stomachs pumped? Most likely. But Four Loko (the product-of-the-hour at the heart of this controversy) is not more to blame than we ourselves are.

Remember Purple Passion? It came in 2-liter soda-like bottles, was purple and fizzy, and was appealing as hell to teenagers (so I've heard). Did its packaging and pleasing branding make me try it then? No. Just as Four Loko's "eye-catching" colors and "fun flavors" aren't going to make college students try this, even though many insist just that. This product is merely something new in the arsenal of the "let's get drunk and party tonight" mentality.

Okay, so the colors and the "young appeal" don't affect us. What about the caffeine? That's nothing new to drinkers, as I've said before - Rum & Coke, Red Bull & Vodka, Baileys & Coffee -- all have firm footing in our weekend repertoire. So just because the caffeine AND the alcohol come together, we are supposed to reject it? As I've alluded before, if you simply pop open the can and consume, there's far less alcohol (between 6% and 12% per 23 ounces) than if you poured your own drink -- at least at my house, bar, friend's house, poolhouse, etc... You get the picture.

Oh, so the caffeine gives you the illusion that you're not getting as drunk? That's what officials are afraid we are going to think - and that we can get behind the wheel sooner than if we didn't have that handy caffeine at all. Give us a little credit - everyone knows that is a total wives' tale, propagated by old sit coms and misinformed story-tellers. You want us to be responsible and make the best decisions? Give us a little leeway to do so- (is what I would say were I still a fledgling college student, who did, as I am sure all the Big Brotheresqe types did too, drink somewhat to excess a few times).

Is Four Loko the new Power Hour of the campuses? The new shotgunning of a beer? The new keg stand? If the malt liquor is anything like the Purple Passion of the '90's, you won't be able to drink THAT much of it without getting that malt-liquor-stomach. I picture this as a start-the-night-off kind of drink, you know, like the before dinner fruity martini, that soon gets switched out after one good one. For those that do drink it all night long and end up in the health center after falling down in the bushes-- you would have done that with another type of alcohol anyway. You can't blame the can -- you CAN blame the can carrier. It's just too easy to blame a company, or a product, for the sadness and depravity that pervades the young drink-til-you-throw-up drinkers. They are always going to be around, whether or not you ban what they are jonesin' for.

One must give acclaim to Phusion Projects, Four Loko’s producer, for seeking to educate and give back to the community. They are quick and often to remind us that their products are meant for those of age, and that they do not condone underage drinking. When there has been a campus incident involving their beverage, they comment on it, admonish the partygoers and wholly support the school administration in rectifying it -- even if it means banning their product. When is the last time Budweiser released a statement apologizing for its product's role in a destructive party or riot? I don’t think blame get misplaced on Budweiser as often as it does on Phusion Projects.

So caffeine and alcohol -- is that REALLY the point? The debate doesn't hold much water, especially with the longstanding prevalence of other stronger caffeine-alcohol combinations (Four Loco has about the same amount of caffeine as a Tall Starbucks coffee). No, to me, the debate seems to focus on the uneducated, overzealous "kids" that are going to hurt themselves on this new, intriguing type of product. And the answers are the same tried and true as ever -- EDUCATE them, and trust that they will also educate themselves. Sometimes a hangover truly is the best medicine.

Bottom line for Four Loko - While I don't agree that caffeine and alcohol combined products should be banned, I do not consider this a Liquor Chick Approved Drink. Too much sugar and calories - 600 calories and 60 grams sugar per 23 ounce can. But it does give me new ideas for the Liquor Chick Lab... And I promise NOT to have college students taste test my lightened up version

Low Calorie Pumpkin Beers

'Tis the season for all things pumpkin -- especially drinks. I love pumpkin flavored beers, and when they add the sugar and cinnamon to the rim, who can resist these tasty treats of fall?

Here are the lowest calorie pumpkin beers that I have found -- and for research purposes, yes, I have tasted them all! I had to log in an extra couple of hours on the Stairmaster to eradicate the indiscretions, for you, my readers, it was worth it!

Just make sure you toast me when you drink one of these sweet ales. Oh, and don't forget to swap out splenda for sugar. Hey. make a difference where you can!

Old Post Road Pumpkin Ale
This beer has less than 150 calories (not bad considering 8 of the 10 we tried had more than 200 calories each) and is smooth and buttery -- definitely one of the sweetest-tasting pumpkin beers. And it's fairly popular -- you'll be able to find it in convenience stores as well as basic package stores. This one got a B+ on taste.

Shipyard Pumpkinhead Ale
Maybe I'm partial because I've been to this brewery, with generous offerings of beer served to us by a happy and informative tourguide. Whatever the reason, I truly like this beer and look forward to its release each year. With just 150 calories and a light-beer kind of taste, I think this beer appeals to everyone. One caveat: there's no real pumpkin in here; just artificial flavorings. And for that reason, Liquor Chick must give it a B-

Jack's Pumpkin Spice Ale
At 166 calories and lots of nutmeg, spices, and yes, pumpkin flavor, this is Anheuser Busch's fall time contender. It's good, albeit a little heavier than Old Post and Shipyard. But that makes it different in its own right. There are so many more pumpkin beers than there used to me, that it's nice that one doesn't take like all the rest. All around, this beer gets an A-

Other Honorable Mentions

Southern Tier Imperial Pumpking - Higher in calories than the others, but also higher in alcohol (9%) so you won't need to drink as much to feel... harvesty. This one's been in our basement bar for the past month, so I know it quite well. Try it if you see it because you won't find it everywhere.

Saranac Pumpkin Ale - Tasty, light and very drinkable. But the calories (230!) eliminated it from Liquor Chick Hall of Fame. Good in small doses, while you climb the elliptical machine, for instance.

Boston Beerworks Pumpkinfest Ale - I couldn't find the calorie count on this one, and quite frankly I don't want to know. I love this beer, and since I can only get it when I go to the Brewpub, I don't have it often enough for it to make a difference. It's good to enjoy once in while, and the freshness, sugared rim (no, I didn't ask for splenda either) and smooth finish make this one my favorite. Thank goodness they don't serve it all year long.

Bartender's Secrets to Lighten Up the Calories

After years of working as a bartender -- and even more years of pouring for myself --I have learned how to make not only delicious and fun drinks, but low-calorie alternatives to these drinks as well. Sometimes we decide to follow a recipe to the letter, but more often than not, I ammend it just a touch in order to keep the calories down -- and the numbers on my scale. I drink often enough -- I don't need my jeans size to betray that fact!

I have found that the lighter versions are sometimes even tastier, and the feeling of doing something better for our health -- well, that's nice too. Here are a few of my old standby recommendations on how to drink smarter:

1. Substitute seltzer water and a splash of a light juice for full-calorie juice ingredients. Two of my favorites are Ocean Spray Light Cranberry Pomegranate and V-8 Diet Splash. These two juices are so flavorful, that if you simply mix them with vodka and soda, you will have tasty, juice-inspired cocktail. An added bonus – the cranberry helps your body flush the alcohol through your system faster. If you want to go for the lowest of all sparkling mixers, switch out fizzy water for 2-calorie Fresca.

2. Sometimes you need more than "just a splash" to make the recipe the right way. So in these cases, always use fresh squeezed fruits rather than juices when they are specifically called for. If you squeeze your own at least you'll be reducing the amount of sugar and additives that things like Sweetened Lime Juice and premade orange juice have. It takes a little longer, but the nutrients in whole fruit juices are worth the extra aggravation.

3. Stick to clear colored spirits over darker ones. Vodka and Gin have fewer calories than Dark Rum and Whiskeys. Light Rum is better than dark, but both are still more sugar-laden than vodka and gin.

4. Better yet, eliminate mixers altogether and drink infused vodka instead. Vodka that has been infused with flavors (a fall favorite of mine is Apple Cinnamon Infused Vodka!) is not only better tasting, but you can actually sip it on the rocks since the burn of the alcohol is mellowed out by the smooth flavor of whatever’s been tossed in there. It is so easy – and not at all limiting – to make your own Infused Vodka. Jalapeño and Garlic; or Orange Vanilla; even herb-infused vodkas. Drink less, get buzzed, and at virtually no calories (60 calories per ounce of vodka)?!?! Count me in.

5. Dry white wine and dry champagne are good to consume, both by themselves, or mixed in with something. Not that I am fan of diluted wine, but there is something to be said for the lasting power of a White Wine Spritzer – grandmas and twenty-somethings alike are always drinking these. And look at the celebrities we see downing champagne at swanky clubs. It’s more than a status statement – those skinny girls know what’s what.

Laurent-Perrier Ultra Brut Champagne is one of the lowest-calorie champagnes on the market, clocking in at only 60 calories per glass. No surprise – models like Kate Moss know what they are doing. Cheaper sparkling wine alternatives (Laurent-Perrier Ultra Brut runs around $60 a bottle) that are also dry and belly-friendly include Domaine Chandon Blanc de Noirs ($15 a bottle) and Westport Rivers Blanc de Noirs ($23 a bottle). With these prices and benefits, there will always be a reason to celebrate with some bubbly!

These few suggestions will keep your drinks flowing – without overflowing your love handles. I am willing to bet that you won't miss the extra sugar -- and around Halloween time, you know you are going to steal, I mean, eat some of your kids' candy. Save the calories for that -- and you'll feel entitled to that yummy drink.

Writer's Blog

I am all blocked up. Why, you ask? And have I really been blogged up since June, when I made my last attempt at enlightening you with Mojito Memoirs and Barroom Banter? Maybe. But back to the first question... WHY??

Well, things have definitely changed since the first hints of summer showed themselves at Brady's -- and at Mojito Memoir Central (aka "my home"). When the temperatures topped 90 degrees for 10 early days in June, Brady's happily opened its patio, welcomed the beachgoers, and feverishly promoted their new summer cocktail list.

Yeah, right.

Jason, the owner likes beachgoers at his establishment just about as much as he likes his patrons wearing baseball caps, his customers staying past 10 0'clock, and his servers saying anything more than "hello" to each other over the course of their shifts -- NOT AT ALL. Yet, he is a businessman and knows that these questionably-dressed (shorts and tanktops allowed on the patio only!) commonfolk may pleasantly surprise him once in a while and appreciate a $40 dollar sirloin or a $240 bottle of Cab.

And the new cocktail list PR, so that people would know we were alive and serving -- not getting swallowed up by the new trendy hotspots that had courted away many of our regulars? Didn't happen. An expert and much beloved bartender, along with a self-promoting spirits rep ("Yes, MM, I truly believe you should order a case of Navan Vanilla Bean Liquer -- it's totally going to be the go-to drink of the summer. Oh, and the 10 Cane Rum and Coconut Ciroc are must-haves too") designed and perfected (those taste-test sessions were brutal) a pretty amazing and inspired drink menu, complete with Moet Nectar fizzy libations and coconut milk concoctions.

The opening work alone, at the beginning of each night, was enough to justify a little PR. It took about 45 minutes to shave chocolate, coat pineapples with coconut, and rouse up all the garnishes and mixers that the new trendy drink menu called for. But no... the only promotions occurred on my Facebook account, where I would post drink recipes and invite friends to come try -- that is, until some of my work friends starting becoming Facebook friends, and then I had to de-link this blog from my Wall, because you never know when one of them may start reading about themselves in a past post. Tricky. So not too much press from any angle.

But anyway - people were coming, drinks were flowing, and summer was roaring. Well, that was last summer anyway. This summer wasn't quite as happenin here at Brady's. Whether it was consumer conscience still dealing with an unsteady economy, or those aforementioned trendies that were competing for our high brow clientele (let's face it, only those upper crust country club couples could afford a place like Brady's -- and now they were spreading their nights out among 2 or 3 other new upper crust places as well), even a fun, well-studied bartender wasn't enough to carry this place. No problem -- I really only work here for the fun, the getting away from my kids, and the have a little cash-in-my-pocket reasons.

And then my reasons changed. My other-half (JmannReview) made a career move, and let's just say that as it takes off from the ground (and until we both become rich and famous), a little extra weight is being placed on my part of contribution pie chart. So staying at a possibly-floundering bar, wasting a night of Jmann's time that could otherwise be spent working on his new endeavors, seemed a little, well fruitless. And, with all the fruit I'd been wasting lately, since no one was coming in to have my garnish-happy cocktails, I knew far-to-well about fruitless and fruitful.

It was a sad day for Brady's when I mixed my last Flirtini for the suburban socialites, said goodbye to the fellow workers (taking care not to talk too loudly or too often, per the Whiteboard), and threw away my rubber-soled stale-beer-smelling bartending shoes. We all went out to enjoy a night of being on the other side of the bar, and the right side of the dancefloor. We swore we'd keep in touch, and I promised I'd be in -- as a customer. But knowing Jason's take on comping meals and complimentary drink rounds, I'd better wait til we really are rich and famous. Though when I do go back, I bet I'll have some new stories to counter the Writer's Blog.

Flukey Friday

Two days in a row. Clearly I have convinced you I am serious with this Back to the Blogging effort. Yes, maybe I am trying to make more of a writing name for myself -- after all, I can't "waste my time" bartending forever. I do have corporate websites, newsletters, press releases and the like to get back to. Yes, the 9-to-5 shackles are trying to drag me back into them. Thus far I have done well to resist. But let's face it -- I won't be the tallest, biggest-biceps'ed, blondest bartender forever. Others WILL take my place. But until they do... you gott hear this:

So last night was a usual Friday night - late comers, all expecting their "usuals", their special attention and their perfect pours. Done. That's the easy part. Yet, then they all wanted to take their time, quiz each other on micro-bioilogy flash cards (I kid you not); call their parents and tell them where they were spending their anniversary ("With Jen -- you know, Jen? The bartender at Brady's. Yes, that's right. Okay - sure. Hey, Jen, My dad wants to talk to you. ARE YOU SERIOUS???!!) They all were.

So while we at Brady's were trying to keep the money coming in, shakey as it was, since our SuperStar chef left and started his own restaurant, with the backing of his actual SuperStar sisters. Yes, we got the lesser-known, the inferiority-complexed "famous" sibling. He made a name for himself, no part in thanks to his sisters' presence. They would always stop by the suburbs when they were in the Big City shooting a movie part, or playing a concert, to give their younger, shorter brother some love. And the critics -- and diners alike -- loved this.

But then Celebrity Brother left. People wondered what would become of Brady's. Oh, have no fear, they would tell each other -- the celebrity bartender is still there. (Until she goes back to her Corporate Roots, blogging about button down shirts and three-quarter trench coats.. they'd muse.) No really, the place has done just fine without the quasi-celeb. Until this weekend...

It was pretty quiet for a Friday night. Red Sox - check. Bud Light Lime - check. All the summer stand-by's. But the usually-filled-beyond-capacity bar and patio were strangely light. Could everyone be over trying to celebrity-spy? Surely the sisters would be at their brother's new place, helping him start it off right.

I did have a few, mind you. Though I had no interest in quizzing a 60-year-old on her upcoming science test (really, Jen - she'd do better if YOU asked her the terms. REALLY?! "OH, I wish I were busier!"), I did my best to cater to the ones that showed their staying power, and came to Brady's, though all the hype was surrounding a cooler, hipper, newer place just down the road. No, these nerds were my customers now.

And the callers on the phone. Yes, I had to speak to "Mr. I Am Paying For My Daughter's Anniversary Dinner With Her Husband". I had to take his credit card number, and his instructions, on how to deliver a dessert with a candle and a smile to his deserving daughter. Yes, this is the same Jen who went to college with your daughter, sir. Yes, it's funny that she is on that side of the bar, and I am on this one. But, hey - the corporate world is calling me back.

Well, the Corporate World may be setting its sights on me again. But it won't happen until I entertain a very fun friend tonight -- and she won't ask for candles, credit card numbers, or how tall or old I am. She will sit and enjoy the freak show that is now Brady's. And then we will go get our groove on. And I wonder how many times she will get hit on before the end of my shift. It will be nice to share the conquests for a change -- and the cheesy lines. It's still more exciting than catalog writing and international finance anyway... For now!

Excuses -- and Questions

Wow. Have I really not blogged since March?? Hating Sprint really zapped me of my creative energy, I think. Well, now that that battle is over -- and I lost, BIG TIME -- it's back to doing here what I'm meant to: Bartender observations. That is, of course, what Mojito Memoirs set out to do. Sure, I could have a whole list of other rants and blogs, i.e. The Eternal Quest for Six-Pack Abs. Or The Funny Things My Crazy-Curled Daughter Says (the funniest, by far, being when she is at a certain stage of undress, turns around, shows me her bare bottom, and recites, "SHAKE-A SHAKE-A BOOM BOOM!"). But I digress. Back to Brady's drama, adventures, snobs, and the like. Back to the Bar-room.

April and May saw some of the craziest nights on record that I have logged at Brady's since beginning last July. It's almost a year - no wonder I am getting bored. Usually my "projects" and "obsessions" last just about long enough to satisfy my wonderings about how I will get out of them (read: "Quit half-way through".) Our house and my life is pretty much riddled with lots of starts - fabulous starts - and not a whole lot of completions.

Take for instance, the mudroom project. I was gung-hoe about painting the trim around this small room, to match a silly piece of upholstery that I thought looked perfect perched atop a make-shift curtain rod on the breezeway door. I am not even sure it was an actual curtain. But, lo and behold, I wanted the creamy beige accent color to match the trim in the rest of this catch-all of a room. Of course it should look fancy - it housed baseball cleats; sandals full of - well, sand; spilled-open backpacks, and a few throw pillows that may have picked up the beige color, but who could tell, because they were always under said backpacks, or in the bathroom next door. (why were the pillows on the bathroom floor? I didn't want to know - and needless to say, I stayed far away from sitting on them while putting on my sand-filled flip flops.).

Anyway, one Friday night (before I became once again a weekend bartender) I declared we would have a painting party, and spruce up this mudroom once and for all. I had, after all, just that Thursday, found the perfect curtain colors, and wanted to match them. This dedication should have been JMann's (and my) first clue that this was simply another "project". I picked up some beer on the way home, bought some easy appetizers that we could grab with one hand while we were feverishly painting with the other, and called it a Night In. Oh, and while I was painting the trim, the serious project, I suggested that JMann paint the adjacent bathroom at the same time. I had been reading about the Ragging Method lately, and thought, sure, that's a project that I needed to have done too.

So J busied himself with the "pseudo project" - mine being the real one, the reason we were having a Painting In Night, I carefully taped all the edges, taking much longer and way more of my excited energy than I wished to give over so early in the game, and began my serious task.

Half an hour later, his bathroom was exquisitely ragged a harvest color that reminded me of a marbled palace, and my blue tape and ivory trim was not really any sort of fun. I painted a garage door, a few mouldings, and then became stymied by the French Door with millions of windows, all trimmed with stark white paint that, if my theory held, would look much better with the wonderful ivory color I had thought so long about -- since Thursday, mind you.

And that's where the project ended. I adopted the bathroom rebirth as my own project; felt good about that accomplishment, and called it a Night. A Painting Night. Maybe it was the 12 beers or the realization that it just wasn't as fun or easy as I thought it would be, but that was the last time my paint brush touched those walls. I stopped noticing that the closet doors were cream and the moulding around the doors was white. I am sure my visitors didn't. But I didn't care. To me it wasn't about aesthetics -- even though at first that was the impetus to paint. No, to me, it was just another example of the half-finished's and neverminds that I have come to accept as my "way of being."

There was also the half-written (okay tenth-written) novel; the somewhat organized garage (it really didn't need to be cleaned out on BOTH sides - I only park my car in ONE of them); or the Christmas cards that were too much trouble to look up the addresses for (Sorry to those of you who are regular receivers -- this year I just didn't have the "This'll be fun" energy I usually do. Besides, it would have been old hat to get the 5th annual poem. Those of you that were getting their first taste of Mojito Magic in the form of poetic cards, I made sure to wow you. It doesn't stay that way though.. So save those finished project beauties.)

So, yes, it's a little odd that I am at the same watering hole nearly 12 months later. And maybe that's also why the Blog took a little hiatus. It was moving into the Expected Zone. Never take anything here for granted. If you get too used to it, it probably means I got too tired of it. But, I will try to make this the Exception to the Boredom Rule. There still has been so much to talk about.

When customers come in and immediately ask you what your name is, you know they are going to be a little bit high maintenance. Oh, Jen - can I have more ground pepper? Oh, Jen - when you get the chance (which means IMMEDIATELY unless you don't want any sort of gratuity) would you wipe up this spill so my husband's pants don't smell like gin?

But one night, the let-me-know-your-name-so-I-can-harass-you-nonstop couple ALSO asked me how tall I was; how old I was; where I lived; and "I bet you have so many stories working in this place, you should write a book. Oh you have a blog? What's the name of it?"

Ooops. Did I say "I have a blog?" I meant I am cataloging lots of ideas in my head for when I DO start a blog. And when I do create one, you'll be the first to get the link. Yes, that's what I meant. How tall am I? Really? Are you wondering that because all of your favorites liquors, like the Stoli Raz and White Zin, are high up on the back shelves behind me? How old am I? I know you said it only because you could not believe that I actually am of child-rearing age and could really be old enough to have children? And where do I live? When you find out that my neighborhood is more desirable than yours, will you and your husband go home and question each other about why I am working in a place like that, and with an - MBA - too? You will gossip and guess that my marriage isn't working and I like to get out of the house, or that perhaps my son from another relationship - because I couldn't be old enough to have legitimate children - is getting in trouble with the law, and I need to store up some money for his continued bail proceedings..? Yes, you will wonder and gossip.

But when I am there in front of you, you will say such things like "Oh, you are so young and beautiful that I didn't think you had any children. And because you are so tall, that makes you even more beautiful..." Did that sound good? And all the while, I will graciously pour your White Zins and your Stoli Razzes, and tell you just how tall I really am, and not just where I live, but somewhat close enough. Because it's all about the experience - real or imagined - that will determine whether you come back or not. And I need you too -- that son of mine just won't stay out of trouble...

Can't wait to see what I get asked tonight... And to write more about April and May. Stay tuned...

The "I Didn't Know Any Better" Sprint Days

I have been suffering through my wireless contract for the past 16 years. After getting my first real job as an Investment Management Customer Service Rep at a large financial services institution, I walked around downtown Boston and into the first cell phone store I saw. Chance. That's how I found Sprint. And that first colored flip phone (if you know me at all, you know that I do not buy gray or black phones. From the very first one, if it was pink, or purple, or really anything but gray or black, I was going to buy it.)

I went through my share of colored phones, each time extending my harmless contract another two years. All providers were the same, as far as I knew. Besides, I lived and worked in a large metropolitan area, where coverage was fine (except for in the vault of my bank, and I only went there once or twice...). So status quo served me just fine.

Then we moved to the boonies. Well, as far as Sprint coverage was concerned we were in the Boonies. Daily, I would lose calls as I would travel across main streets, that oh, just happened to have trees on either side of them. That must be the reason, I told myself. I should drive on roads with no trees. And no telephone lines either. Ironic. I would just find "better ways" to get to my destinations.

And this is how things went for years and years. My just "putting up with" the fair, often "poor" service that this otherwise helpful company offered. At least I thought they were helpful, until I actually needed to visit one of the service centers for help. That adjective soon went out the window.

Whenever you visit one of these service centers, you are required to wait about 35 minutes before being helped. That allows you to hear everyone else's problems and realize that yours isn't so big after all. Dropped calls? That's nothing. This poor slob's ear electrocutes every time he answers a phonecall. Oh, and this guy -- he tried to cancel out of his contract, and now he has to come here every Monday morning and re-activate his phone. Just for thinking about leaving us. Yeah, ok. I can live with a few dropped calls. I am outta here...

And so I continued to deal with the sub-par. After all, I hadn't entered the age of texting, or Internet via cell phone. No, those perks were years away for any Sprint customers. Hard dial, phone connections, that's all I needed them for. But, wait -- I could get into texting..

Enter 2008. Sure, it was months, years even - after the other better-knowns had been providing these services. But I caught wind of them, and I wanted them for my own. Mistake #2. But I quietly acquiesce, being happy enough for what I get and when I do... Such a martyr, we all know.

So now I am struggling through spotty connections, texts that don't go through three-quarters of the time, and web service that gives me the exact same status updates it gave me three hours earlier. That's not possible! I change my own status every two. Hmmm.... sub-par Sprint was frustrating me again. And, cough, I might ACTUALLY call them on it. Let's see how this goes...

Sprint: I woudn't go back to their bar.

While the theme and focus of this blog has been thus far the trials, tribulations and debauchery at one particular bar, I am changing the focus for this next series of blogs. But am I really changing it that much? Is a bar all that different from any other place of business? Not really.

All places require a product or service to be sold; a customer to purchase that good or service; and a customer service representative to give that customer the service or good that they expect. I, the bartender am the customer service rep. And if I bartended at Brady's in the same ignorant, unapologetic manner that the Sprint customer service representatives deliver their products through their company, then I would be working at an empty bar, and probably not working at all.

This next group of blogs will explore the ways in which Sprint has completely abandoned the customer service principle, leaving in its wake a very large segment of unhappy customers, thirsty for the type of service and respect that any old bartender happily and automatically gives. And bartenders' products cost about 20 times less than Sprint's. And their customer's length of stay is on average, a couple of hours, versus the years that Sprint takes hold of us through their iron-clad contracts and subpar attention. So why is it, that I have repeat customers by choice, and Sprint can only keep customers because they give them no other choice..?? Read on, and let's investigate.

Threesome - Not, Part 2

Three bottles of wine later. (They were walking home to the same place. Though after the ridiculousness that Jessie pulled on Anna, two of the three girls were threatening to drive back to Boston. With THREE bottles of wine in them. Uh - oh. Time for the bartender to get creative...)



"Wait!" I say to Kara and Jessie as they are about to fall their way out the door. "You can't just leave XX and XX here together. He is clearly a slimebag, and she is going to need some best friend consoling later on when she realizes it too."



This made them hesitate. "Oh fine." Jessie looked at Kara, as if to get her approval for this gameplan change. "I suppose she didn't really MEAN it when she called me a whore in the first place."



"Right." I said. "She was just hurt. She thought this new guy was going to be different than her last few." Now I am just making stuff up, hoping to sound convincing, and a hell of a lot more coherent than those two. While I am pleading with them to tend to their hurt friend (okay, save my ass, as the bartender that arguablely could have overserved them...), Anna has emerged from the Ladies' Room, where she had been hiding for the past 10 minutes after storming away from the bar and calling Jessie a slew of very unflattering woman terms.



But it wasn't Jessie's fault. And really, it wasn't Anna's fault. And in all honesty, it wasn't really "Boyfriend Mark's" fault either. These kinds of complicated misunderstandings are par for the course when there are 3 people involved. And I am talking about any combination of 3. It could be 3 women. 3 men. 2 women and 1 man. 2 men an 1 woman. Though I doubt the two men would get as catty and hysterical when a woman is the object of their competing effection. Not outwardly so at least. Men seem to have the control and objectivity to stifle their inner tears in trade for a down-the-line, much-planned-out sabotage on their buddy. Women need to act now, and they need to act hard. I give us credit for this honesty.



So it doesn't really matter what Jessie "did" to Anna, and how Mark reacted to his "girlfriend." You've seen this same night played out a hundred different ways at a hundred different venues - restaurant bar, healthclub, commuter train, business dinner. The three thing just doesn't work out. Hopefully the women could see past this one night of trouble and put their friendships back together -- either with or without Mark. And, for the bartender's sake, that they all WALK home. Well, except for Mark. He can hail a cab for all we women cared...

Threesome - Not

Last weekend three women walked in, happy as could be, and ready to prolong their "afternoon of fun," as they called it. Kara, Jessie, and Anna were enjoying some quality girl time together, and it was evident. And slowly, the backstory came to surface...


Kara and Jessie were friends since 3rd grade; having known each other since the tender age of 8 -- which could explain how Kara could overlook some of Jessie's clearly crazy tendencies. Like the fact that Jessie couldn't leave the house without listening to, and singing at the top of her lungs, the song "I Will Survive" by Gloria Gainer, because she felt it ensured a positive night out -- especially in the immediate months after her husband left her for a "friend from the gym" (that Kara swears was a man, but was never given the 100% assurance).



So this betrayal not only produced some silly habits like the need for the 'I Will Survive' anthem, but it also caused Jessie to doubt and question everyone in her life. Everyone, that is, except her best and most beloved and trusted friend, Jessie, whom she had cried on, drank with, and was bolstered up by during those long, emotional months-- finally enough to hit the dating scene.



Though Jessie lived in San Francisco, and Kara in Beacon Hill, their friendship had remained as solid as if they still lived on the same street, like they had for 22 years in Swampscott, Mass. Upon hearing the news of Kara's husband's cheating, she dropped everything and flew out to spend the weekend with her broken-hearted friend. And she had made the trip several times in the six months since then, treating her to shopping trips, spa days and lots of bottles of wine. Their friendship was the strongest it had ever been on this ladies' weekend, when they walked into Brady's.



But there was a third wheel. Another female. And I know from years of being a mother - okay, just being a semi-intelligent person - that the number "3" is not a good one for friends. Playdates among 3 5-year olds always end in tears, two boys always teaming up against the 3rd - forcing him to be the "monkey in the middle" or the one who's always "It," resulting in poor old #3 being hid from, pushed aside, or, if he's fortunate - just being ignored. There are only two video game chairs, not three. Two Wii controllers, not three (Though I am told I could easily buy one, two, or "a hundred more," Mom. Jeez. Yes, I clearly want these playdates to fail...) Only two favorite island stools, only two Transformer cups... blah blah blah.



And this unfair dynamic doesn't end in adolescence. No, there's always the "front seat" debate, leaving poor old #3 to ride behind the other two, straining her ear to hear the gossip over U2 cranking out of the back speakers. Though, you'd think, I, as a mother of three, not two, would be more sensitive to this stopgap to fairness. But, oh well - I also believe compromise and sharing builds character.



When there are three people, there's always one friend who hears the gossip second, gets called on the phone second, gets picked up second -- which, by all intents and purposes is 'last'. But as we get older, we mature and come to realize that being first is just a result of logistics, and not anything deeper in meaning or symbolics. Riiiiiiight. (Maybe in my perfectly conditioned family and among my similarly minded righteous friends... Maybe.)



Back to Kara, Jessie and Anna. So Kara and Jessie had about 20 years of friendship under their belts before poor #3 Anna even entered the scene. Anna had grown to be Jessie's best "adult" friend in the five years they had worked together at the same financial services firm. Some would argue that the chosen, adult friends have an even stronger bond than the childhood friends, despite the disparity in the number of years of each of these friendships.



People that we choose to become friends with later in our lives are not a result of proximity or shared softball practice schedules, but they are people that we truly appreciate and enjoy for who they are -- independent of their similarities to us. Often these friends have such different tastes and interests that they enrich each other's lives much more so than the Crazy, Jealous, Suspicious Friend that we really do love, but mostly because we have known Crazy-Jealous-Suspicious since we were both in diapers.



This longer term friend, however, gets all the benefit of your doubts, because you know exactly what horrible thing happened in 5th grade to her parents or just how close she was to a pregnancy scare in 11th grade, or whatnot. These friends, because of all your experiences together, can pretty much do no wrong to you.


But that doesn't mean that your newer, adult-acquired friend has any sort of empathy or appreciation for your other, crazy, childhood friend. Nope. Not for a long shot...


And this is what was becoming apparent to me during the women's 3-hour stay at Brady's. Jessie and Anna would fill me in on their thoughts and histories whenever Kara would excuse herself to go to the ladies' room, or step outside to call her newest "boyfriend." Jessie explained the background to me, the bartender she had decided was worthy of all this friendship baggage at the onset when I suggested for them a small production gruner veltliner they might like, knowing she lived in Wine Country. We also seemed about the same age, amount of fun and personality, they told me - so we hit it off, enabling me to get the full picture of their unique friendships.

Jessie wanted Kara and Anna to be best friends, just like she and Kara were, and she and Anna were. She had been trying the last few visits home to force these two extremely different women to become close, making for Jessie, the perfect group. This may have been a little selfishness on Jessie's part, wanting to reduce her duties during her short weekend trips. If both her best friends were best friends too, then she wouldn't have to spend time shuttling between Boston, Swampscott and the South Shore each time she visited. But mostly, she just thought it would be fun and enjoyable if they all got along. If only...

Queue the bottles of wine.

Rules and Engagements

As some of you may have thought, I did NOT give up blogging as my New Year’s Resolution. No, I have just been on hiatus from the very drama-filled Brady’s for three weeks, enjoying my own bar-hopping in Disney World; mixing drinks in my own home for family event after event after event (requiring strong drinks and plenty of them); and designing our very-own basement bar, which hopefully will be a place where I can mix drinks -- like I like to do, and avoid the bar-drama, which I wish I could. Then again – what would I blog about?

So although I had not been mixing up mojitos and martinis at Brady’s, I had not been completely away from the scene either. And when I did venture back this past weekend for my usual Friday/Saturday shift, it was as If I had never left.

As usual, the whiteboard was full of not-so-subtle tips from Jason on how we staff should behave:

1. If you cannot keep your voice to an undetecteble[sp] wisper [sp], then there will be NO TALKING AT ALL in the dining room.” (I never did find out if Jason went to college -- or even passed remedial English in High School. How can I adhere to a rule that was made by someone who cannot even spell the rules CORRECTLY?!)

Hey, the “dining room” is not the “bar” so I was free from that ridiculous rule. Though sometimes, I wish I were not, and could enforce this mandate, at my very whim, on the most egregious barstool offenders.

Then I would be able to turn to Annoying Cling-on Claudette, who would tell every single person that sat down anywhere near her that she was “Suddenly Single” and out to celebrate that fact tonight; and tell her that she needed to keep her high-tar cigarette-voice DOWN?!. Could I actually stifle her male-bashing pundits, before she then acted as if the person next to her was inviting her into conversation about the last 10 years of her “horrible life” that she had just “escaped from” today, simply by responding “Oh,” to the “suddenly single” tidbit? Interesting…

And then I would be entitled to “Shhhh” the 4 past-their-prime one-time-socialites, all divorced now and talking of “promise rings” and “sex after 60” over in the corner. Ick. They actually made Bar Back Chris leave the room by loudly discussing their thinning hair, hot flashes and botched botox jobs, while ever-so-slowly sipping their social drinker cocktails – no mojitos or old fashioned’s for them. These mimosa- and madras-connoisseurs would need all the time they could get to nurse their drinks and make eye contact with every “eligible bachelor” that walked past, before finally assuming their seats in the dining room, having taken just long enough to block the bar from actual interesting patrons that left for other places because these Cougar-Wanabees took up far too much space and much too much time. And not nearly enough of their money.

And I would totally be within my rights to tell the obnoxious “in-the-middle-of-a-nasty-divorce-and-looking-for-a-good-woman” roofer that, No, I did not find it appealing that he works on Bill Belechick’s roof and will be “pulling in hundreds of thousands of dollars” from all his fancy neighbors and rich friends because he is so skilled at what he does. Then, when he leans in and says lewdly, “If you know what I mean,” intimating that his bedroom skills and not his construction talents are what landed him these jobs, I could say “Sorry – the rule here is 'No Talking.'" And, before he tells me I "barely look 25” and like I would be a “great dancer”, and that he knows of a nice hotel bar with live jazz music, I would have been able to use my white-board authority and told him to “Shut Up.” Damn that I don’t work in the “Dining Room."

But I don’t. And it seems that Jason has gone White-Board Crazy since I have been gone. Oh well – just as I have to put up with the Uninterestings, the Overentitled’s and the Can’t-Take-a-Hint’s, so do I have to deal with White Board Rules. Or at least, note them and make fun of them later in my blogs.

Funny how "No having affairs with married coworkers or bosses" doesn't appear on the list at all. I guess Jason must feel the same way I do sometimes -- that rules -- whiteboard, or otherwise -- are meant to be broken.

Numbers 2, 3 and 4 were just as ridiculous. Let’s see who will break those first NEXT weekend.