It’s a verbal vomit post because it’s been that kind of a day.

You know when you have those kinds of days that don’t seem to have a thread of connectivity running through them to ground you? So, you’re kind of like the tasmanian devil dude spinning around everyone, and …. Look, let’s just be honest. I was manic today. And it’s Tuesday. So, according to The Bangles, I can’t even do manic correctly. But anyway. It was a wild kind of day. Rollercoastery. No, spellcheck. Rollercoastery, NOT rollercoasters. I’ll write my own posts, thank you. Why don’t you take the evening off? I believe I’ve got this covered as it’s a BLOG. I’m not writing a thesis.

I’m just going to be honest. I can’t write the final two posts for Mad Men just yet. But I have to write them at some point because I have to finish! So, they’ll appear at some point. No one will care. But I will have finished the task. I just can’t quite face the fact that the show is over. Yet. It’s Breaking Bad all over again.

So, welcome to a verbal vomit post. Let’s get to it, shall we?

  • First. Who has watched Montage of Heck? If you haven’t, you must do so now. You will be grateful you spent your time on that instead of reading this crap. It’s incredible. And it got me wondering how my genius hasn’t been discovered yet. <snort> OK. No. What it actually did make me wonder, for real this time, was how many people focus on less weightier matters and topics, because it can be too emotionally-draining to dig into their psyche? I know there are many times that I just don’t look too closely for deeper meaning in things when I’m feeling particularly fragile. Usually, I’m all for poking and prodding at the dark corners of my mind to see what’s in there, but I know my limits and when to look up at the sky and just think, “Yep, it’s cloudy today.” He (Cobain) spent so much time in his head, and I can’t fathom the depth of his loneliness; although you definitely get a sense of it in the movie. It’s really well done.
  • Next. Gimelstob. Was it you? I’m not sure. If not, I apologize. One of you French Open commentators was complaining about Nadal being called for his CONTINUED time delays on his serve on a break point. Look. I get your point. It’s valid. However, I have an opposing point which is also valid. When he’s been called in the past on points that weren’t important, it hasn’t stopped him from taking extra time before every serve. Do you know how many times he went over the allotted time on his serve? Do you? Well of course you do because you told me during your diatribe. EVERY SINGLE TIME. That’s fairly significant, no? And my opinion is that if you call him on it when it HURTS him more (perhaps like on a break point?), it might make more of an impact. You immediately started blabbering about how this must NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. THIS CAN NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. Dude, chill. Have a beer. And he was eventually broken by Sock (Yes, non-tennis fans. The man’s last name is Sock. It’s fairly ridiculous, but what are you going to do. Also, he’s American. A male American tennis player. Who is damn good. I’ll take his ridiculous name and chant it, if it will make him successful.) See, that probably will stick in Nadal’s noggin. Hmmmm, all this time I’m taking before my serves is being noticed and becoming less and less tolerated. Maybe I should do something about it. But mine is also just an opinion. Just like yours. Guess what? The chair umpire? His is not an opinion. His is the ruling. Move on, man. I’m just grumbling about you on my little blog. You made an ass out of yourself on broadcast telly.
  • Veep. This show, people. You can’t even laugh out loud. You have to giggle to yourself as quietly as possible or else you’ll miss the next bon mot which is coming 2 seconds after the last.
  • Entourage. Yeah, woohoo and all that. I’m not even talking about the movie. Or the show. I just suspect that I’m supposed to be a part of certain celebrity entourages. It has just not happened due to circumstances. But if these celebs knew me they would almost certainly make me a part of their circle. I say almost because you have to account for a public mask that doesn’t match the private persona. If that’s the case, then all bets are off.
    • Jason Bateman. He and I would be thick as thieves. We’d probably be a threesome (not in that way, sicko) with Will Arnett with nearly constant banter. It would be endlessly entertaining to certain people, but confusing for others because we’d have a shorthand where we’d never quite finish a conversation or sentence because we’d be all crazy simpatico.
    • Amy Poehler. This would be the hardest to get in. I’d have to audition. And again. But I know who she hangs with, and my edge would win her over in the end. I trend dark humor, Amy. Call me. Plus, how could she say no to anyone. She’s so nice.
    • Lauren Graham. If she is anything at all like her former character, Lorelai Gilmore, then she and I would either get along like the closest sisters ever, or we’d fight constantly, because we are the same person.
    • Melissa McCarthy. I just need to be around her. Watch her do her thing. If you’ve ever seen This is 40 and haven’t watched until the credits finish, then you missed probably the best part of the movie. Melissa just goes to town. And I need that in my life. But I think I could roll with her. One of my favorite people ever moved out of town years and years ago, and I’ve never seen her since. I miss her terribly. She was my non-celeb Melissa McCarthy. We worked together and were a traveling comedy show which can be hard to manage in a law firm. But we made it work. So I think I could make things work with Melissa. I think.
    • Dave Matthews. I think this dude is probably in my family tree, and I just haven’t discovered it yet. I believe discovering begins with looking, but that could be a nasty lie. But I digress. You know the part in “Dancing Nancies” where he’s all — could I have been your little brother — and I’m like I’m certain you ARE, dude! Except not my little brother since you’re older. But you listen to his little bits on stage and he’s really strange and talking just “mad-crazy” talk, and I’m thinking, “Yeah, that sounds weird-trippy, and he’s doing that rambling thing. Sounds like me.” I’ve even turned to Matthew before and said something along those lines. Matthew kind of gave me the patient look that says, “Yes, it’s not one of your better qualities, but I’m rolling with it.” Anyway, as I was saying. Similar sense of humor. And did I mention that my confirmed brother has musical talents? Hi, Greg! Well, just put all that together. I don’t think I need to paint the rest of the picture for you, right? So, I’m looking forward to my holiday gift this year. Yeah, I didn’t know if it was a Christmas gift I should be expecting, or one of the other holidays, or a generic holiday gift. So I just figured I’d slip holiday in there to cover the whole shebang. Make sure I get my gift. Dude’s got mad cashflow. Hell, I’m bringing some of it TO YOU this summer, possible bro. The least you can do is reimburse.

Good news. Tasmanian devil left the house, yo. I’m tired. Time for Tito’s. Yeah. This post wasn’t even brought to you by alcohol.

Tito’s Gluten Free Vodka. Strange Reentry Post after a Long Hiatus? I imagine so, but …. it’s Tito’s!!

So, I’m gluten free. Have been for a year and a few months now. And it appears to be a larger issue to two people I barely even know than it really is or has ever been for me. It seemed to seriously upset these people. Everyone else I know is either mildly curious at the very most or could NOT care less, and these people rock because….exactly.  Who cares what I’m eating unless I’m forcing you to change the way you eat. There is one person that I see once every five months or so who always throws me off-guard because, before we can even exchange pleasantries, the VERY first thing she does – each of the three times I’ve seen her since I’ve been gluten free – is to ask with a pitying look on her face how I’m managing to survive each minute of the day living with this nightmarishly horrible burden of being unable to eat gluten. And I think she’s surreptitiously checking for slash marks on my wrists because she’s convinced that suicide is a more attractive option than being gluten free. I immediately forget that she’s pretty straightforward and serious and assume that she’s employing my favorite friend: hyperbole. So I begin to launch into an enthusiastic and hyperbolic commentary about food until I stop myself at the very last minute remembering that she’s not familiar with hyperbole at all. She’s just genuinely horrified at having to put a limit of any kind on what can be consumed. And just to be clear, I’m not trying to portray her as a horrible person; she just doesn’t know how to talk to someone who, in her view, is choosing to adopt a way of eating that is unnecessary and far too limiting to be anything but soul-killing. She knows I went gluten free to help minimize my migraine suffering, but she doesn’t really believe that I needed to take such drastic measures. So she believes me to be overdramatic and attention-seeking. (Which I feel I should mention here is far from the case because, unless someone wants to talk about gluten-free eating because they are considering adopting it, I’d rather never discuss it at all. I’m shy, people. Please — no spotlight on me!!). What she doesn’t seem to understand, despite my explaining it to her every time she asks again why I’m eating this way, is that the reason that I went gluten free is because gluten consumption has sidelined me with migraines lasting weeks — and I won’t even discuss the other issues that plagued me before I eschewed gluten.

So, maybe I should get to the reason for my post, right? GEEZ I’m wordy!!! The point of my VERY long post is that GF folks have to make a lot of changes, yes. And it can be pretty surprising to discover some of the things that can cause issues: deli meat? salad dressing? sauces? Yep, all of those things and many more have to be checked to make sure they don’t contain any stray ingredients that’ll cause a GF person trouble. But we can drink!! Check out this bad boy below!!

Uncle Tito's Vodka (ok, I might have added the Uncle part)
Uncle Tito’s Vodka (ok, I might have added the Uncle part)
It's gluten free, folks! Also? It tastes good! Really!
It’s gluten free, folks! Also? It tastes good! Really!

Now, what you might not know is the story of Tito’s Handmade Vodka. I also do not know the story of Tito’s Handmade Vodka, but it hasn’t stopped me from making up one of my own. (Yes, I could research it, but where’s the fun in that?)

The Story of Tito’s Handmade Vodka

(Ed. Note: This story is absolutely, totally, and completely fictionalized. But people, the website is called exaggeratedforeffect.com. This should not be a surprise. Hmmm, perhaps the website should be called completelyfabricatedforeffect.com)

One day a young man named Otis woke up and realized that his job of knitting mittens for kittens was not working out like he had hoped it would. The mittens never seemed to fit quite right; they refused to stay put on the kittens’ paws because the kittens were so rambunctious and would just rip them off completely when presented with a scratching post; and, finally, the kittens appeared to be completely unimpressed and unappreciative of all the work he had put into knitting the darn things in the first place! So, he was already feeling grouchy and his morale was low. But it was the grey tabby that finally pushed him over the edge. The grey tabby was his favorite. He had a little marking around his left eye that made him look like a pirate, and Otis loved him and was certain that ol’ “One Eye” Dread Pirate Roberts loved him at least as much. But he found the fancy mittens he had just crafted for ol’ “One Eye” Dread laying on the floor in tatters with a very suspicious wetness present and a distinct smell that could only be described as eau d’urine. So, Otis was officially done! Stupid, adorable, lovable grey tabby!! He snatched up ol’ “One Eye” while being sure to give the cat an immediate, if lukewarm (stupid cute cat!), stink eye and stormed out of his kitten mitten crafting studio for the last time. He had to find a new career, so he sat on the couch for a few months and watched every episode of the “Real Housewives” franchise he could find as he was pretty certain that the answer was sure to be found if he paid close attention. He also made a point to watch every episode of “Mad Men” as he’d heard that show was great. He figured the answer might be there, and, if not, at least the show should be enjoyable. But the answer was there in both shows!! The answer was: ALCOHOL!!

He quickly landed on vodka because of that clear liquor thing, and he didn’t want to make ol’ “One Eye” suffer killer hangovers from sucking down shot after shot of a dark liquor. The gluten free piece was an equally easy choice as “One Eye” Dread had a wicked sensitivity to gluten discovered after multiple experiences with croutons that had made suicide dismounts from the counter onto the floor only to be quickly consumed by the cat. “One Eye” would suffer the ill effects for days, and the gluten sensitivity diagnosis was eventually made. Initially by the cat. It took Otis a little longer, but he figured it out eventually. So, Otis began making vodka. It took him a good long while before he came up with a batch that “One Eye” considered worthy of consumption, but when he finally made that first batch of cat-approved vodka, he knew he was on his way. So, it was time to name the vodka. He was vain enough that he wanted to name it after himself, but he knew that Otis’ Vodka was problematic at best. That “s” at the end of his name was just all kinds of pronunciation trouble when coupled with that darn possessive, and he couldn’t have that. He remembered how much he liked alliteration and that vodka is often ordered with tonic, so he started to concentrate on names that began with a “t.” He also decided that “Handmade” needed to be in the title because, well, it just did. As he was trying out names, he remembered that teetotalers are people that enjoy drinking alcohol so maybe he could do something with that. After all, that sounded like an alliteration home run! He shortened teetotalers to Teetotal and then to Teeto and realized that Tito looked far cooler. And the name was born. It wasn’t until his first giant order of labels had been printed that his cousin Garvin (self-nicknamed The Garvinator) informed him that teetotalers are actually people that DO NOT drink alcohol. The Garvinator was preparing to enjoy his self-served helping of schadenfreude when Otis reminded him that nobody would ever guess that Tito had originated from the word teetotaler anyway. And Garvin stomped away to sulk and drink a bottle of Tito’s that he had swiped from Otis’ garage and grumble about his “highness and mightiness” Cousin Otis AKA Tito.

The End

(Ed. Note: Again, this tale is all kinds of fiction. But then, duh.)