Remember a couple months ago when I talked about having an absinthe party? (What do you mean, "No"? You expect me to believe you have better things to do than retain everything I ever say? Impossible.) Anyway, my friend Carrie and I co-hosted that event last night, and though I spent most of today feeling as sodden and benumbed as the tortured artists who made the Green Fairy legendary in its day, I would venture to say that the party was a success and a good time was had by nearly all.
I am feeling rather foggy headed, not so much from absinthe specifically but from absinthe and vodka and champagne and wine, not to mention a 6:00 a.m. bedtime. People, I am too old for this. I know this, and yet I continue to pretend I can party like a rock star. Or, in the case of an absinthe-centered event, party like Hemingway. And when it comes to indulging in absinthe, Hemingway was just a damn fool. I mean, the man mixed his absinthe with champagne. I am no expert on the substance, but I can say that of all the concoctions I sampled last night, that one was, hands-down, the most vile.
I was going to proceed with a list of other absinthe-related lessons I learned, but frankly, I am too damn tired at the moment for even a bullet-point post of laziness. So how about a photo essay instead? Work for you? Oh good. Here we go.
Me pouring my first absinthe of the night
Michael demonstrating the ritual as well
Carrie demonstrating for another absinthe apprentice
Look! Even -R- came. If only I could drink with all my blog friends... Incidentally, -H- still thinks we look like sisters. I don't see it; do you?
Carrie and the Green Fairy (I suppose they were my TWO co-hosts for the night)
Full set is on Flickr if you're interested. And now I'm off to bed.