Friday, August 12, 2011

486. Pinktini: A User Manual

Go to the liquor store. Take your kids with you because it is the middle of the day and they are off for the summer and your husband is still at work. It’s okay, the liquor store guy remembers you from last time.

Read his name tag because you cannot even remember whether you fed the cat this morning, let alone what the liquor store guy’s name is. The tag will say “Bob.” He is Korean and does not look like a “Bob,” but what do you know about how exactly a “Bob” should look? He says hi Dr. MOV and you say hi Owner Bob, and you both smile at each other.

Walk to the back of the store where they keep the Absolut. This is a mean trick that it is in the back because that is all you ever buy. Well, except for Bailey’s. And Kahlua. And tequila. Except for that.

So it is a mean mean trick that they (the marketers, distributors, owners, Bob’s wife, whoever) make you walk waaaaaaaaaaay to the back of the store to find the Absolut.

Bob will run after you. This is unexpected. “Dr. MOV! Dr. MOV! We move the Absolut you like! Now different spot! I show you!”

While Bob tries to re-route you to the proper location, your two angel sons will become possessed by the devil (is this not why you drink in the first place? Mental note: get large bottle this time) and will circle around the Pina Colada display with the Johnny Depp life-size pirate cut-out and will yell out to no one in particular, “I am Captain Jack Sparrow, matey!”

Bob kindly (quickly?) will usher you back up to the front of the store, and there right by the front door is an entire feature (feature—yes, you know the correct lingo from working at the high-end kitchen store) of Absolut. Who knew that Absolut came in all those variations?  Lemons and raspberries and pears, oh my!

Gratefully nod at Bob, then grab the largest bottle of Original Absolut they sell. Whoa, $65. That might be too big of a bottle. Your husband might notice that on the Amex statement. Carefully reconsider and get the $22 bottle instead (practice saying, “It was for a recipe,” so you will sound genuine later when you explain it to him).

Now your sons will decide to roll on the floor. You will be mortified. You will hiss at them to get up this instant, and then instead of that happening, the instant is the same one when your older son’s principal will walk in. Great. Apparently she drinks, too, but you will most likely not be turning her into Child Protective Services.

Greet her warmly (“Hello, Principal Jones! Soooooo great to see you! I am picking up some alcohol for, uh, for a recipe! Oh, you too?”).  Pay.  Leave fast.

Yell at your kids when you get in the car about how embarrassed you are about their terrible behavior. Wave at Principal Jones when you realize she is parked right next to you.

Drive home. Put that vodka right in the freezer where it belongs.

Go upstairs and Google “how long for vodka to get cold in freezer?” Decide that half an hour is not really that long, that you can make it. Half an hour will be 4 PM anyway.

Set the timer. Wait for it to go off.

When it does, take your perpetually pre-chilled crystal martini glass out of the fridge. Root around for something to mix with the Absolut. Cranberry juice? No. Pina Colada mix? No. Apple juice? Wrong. Then, in the back of the refrigerator, spot something new: Trader Joe’s Pretty-in-Pink Lemonade (mentally inventory all the clever names that Trader Joe’s gives everything).

Get that lemonade right out. Retrieve your special metal drink shaker (purchased from Target). Try to remember the correct ratio: 2 to 1, 1 to 2, 4 to 1. Argh! What is it?

Pour 3 shots of pink lemonade into the shaker, over big cubes of ice. Then, add 2 shots of Absolut vodka. That’s right! Now you remember: the ratio is 3 to 2.

Shake it. More. Shake it until your arm feels like it might fall off. Take off that special metal top-part-thingy and pour the drink through the part with the holes. Marvel at how beautiful your new drink looks. Notice that the top looks ice-y and almost not-even-real, like a commercial about ice-skating on a frozen pink lake. Dub this new creation the “Pinktini,” because, well, because you are very creative when it comes to naming things.

Be happy for planned surprises, like Pinktinis.

Drink up. Yum. Mention Sarah in your blog and how she is your new best friend and how you will share any recipe she wants, just maybe not the one for your special peach Bellinis.

(“Mistress Of Vodka”)


  1. Wow, Target has retro bartinini items, who knew.

  2. I thought I was the only one who used that "for a recipe" idea.

  3. Nola,

    Let's face it: I would *move into* Target if they'd let me. Where else can you pick up some laundry detergent, a new silver picture frame, the latest issue of House & Home magazine, kitty litter, and a fairly good bottle of vino? Oh, and a new faux-leather ottoman? All for around $118? Sign. Me. Up.

    On The Road Again,

    It is getting harder and harder for me to use the "for a recipe" line, because my family notices that nothing has been cooked, but the (empty) bottle of alcohol is in the recycle bin. Hmmmmmmmm.

    President MOV

  4. You should definitely just say that you used it to INVENT recipes, but the result combusted due to the fiery vapors of vodka and you have nothing to show for it and it tasted horrible anyway. You can probably eke that out at least five times.

    Dr. Motaki

  5. Dr. Motaki,

    Ah, the voice of experience! (and it totally explains why my eyebrows are burnt off too. you are a genius.)


  6. You could also scribble in new eyebrows with a Sharpie marker and say you were brutally attacked while shopping at Virgo Target.



  7. (Attacked by a Sharpie-wielding psycho, of course.)

  8. why would anyone attack a sweet little Virgo like myself? were they trying to steal my coupons????????


  9. Of course. Coupons are the new solid gold purses.

    Except they weigh less.

    best, Motaki

  10. I, too invent a lot of liquor recipes and am forced to drink the mistakes. It's a crying shame. Hic.

    PS - Nice meeting you over at PW Sux.

  11. Oh, Meg, you're fun. You may come to our party anytime.

    I never thought of drinking the "mistake" drinks (although I used to do this when I worked at a frozen yogurt place when I made the wrong milkshakes ... I wonder why I never transferred this USEFUL habit over to alcoholic beverages?!).

    If you like this particular post, go back and read #459 from July, you will like it.




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