So what are you up to this weekend? I’m doing apartment hunting and a barre class tonight, then a beach bonfire. Tomorrow is going to be a blur of Spoleto and the farmer’s market. Sunday is probably going to consist mainly of me getting nervous that Sharon Tate is Megan Draper. Got any cool plans?
I think I may have mentioned this when I did my Asheville guide a few months ago, but a lady can drink some pretty incredible beers in the Paris of the South.
This week’s happy hour brew comes from the high-on-quality-low-on-charm Asheville Brewing Company. The Rocket Girl Golden Lager, which you apparently cannot buy anywhere online, is exactly what it sounds like: a light lager.
I’m not going to sing the RGGL’s praises; it’s just okay. Maybe a 6 on a scale of 10. It’s really, really light, not at all hoppy, and has pretty low carbonation. Since it’s low ABV (3.2), it goes down very, very easy. It’s not hard to imagine drinking a lot of these over the course of a bonfire/party/NASCAR race/bar mitzvah.
So where does this beer fit into your life? Well, maybe you’ve got family coming who really really really won’t drink anything other than, like, Miller High Life, or maybe you’ve just mowed the lawn (I’ve never done that, but I can imagine)? This is a great, microbrew alternative to a PBR, a Falls City, or a Natural Lite.
Have you had this one? What’s your light beer of choice?
I’m just ready for the You Belong with Me moment when Andy Samberg realizes that there’s definitely a non-fiction editor in South Carolina that he is probably in love with? Which seems unlikely since I’m brunette and we all know how Taylor Swift videos end.
Anyway, fair warning: this is really, really NSFW and also really, really funny.
So on Saturday, my friend Courtney and I went to the 5th Annual Southeastern Beard and Mustache Competition. I don’t really have any words to describe the scene. Back me up, other attendees: the crowd was close to 600 maybe, the Holy City Beard and Mustache Society (REAL THING) raised a couple grand for uterine cancer research, and some truly inspiring/hideous/amazing/artful/horrifying/America-loving facial hair was on display. The ladies’ division was also a sight to behold. You haven’t really lived until you’ve seen an adult woman in a girl scout costume sporting a beard made of Samoa cookies. There was an entire category (junior full beard) of boys who basically looked like my own personal LLBean boyfriend.
Did you know that there’s like, a competition circuit for this stuff? Well, now you do. I can only describe the entire event as an exercise in unbridled glee.
Have you ever been to a mustache contest? Did you know there was such a thing? Have you entered one?! If so, please sign here guaranteeing you’re my best friend for life.
I wish this sea of jewels didn’t call to me like some freak siren song, but it does.
Hi! I missed you. I moved, started a new job, got food poisoning, and have generally been so unable to blog it’s been kind of sad. But I’m back now, and I’m excited to be with you again.
In the meantime, aren’t you just SO glad to learn there’s a word for my weird book hoarding?
Behold, the humble fortune cookie.
I’ve always loved these– not too sweet, a tool of augury, a completely invented tradition. What’s not to love? Once, I got no fortune in my cookie and got nervous I was about to die. The next time, I got THREE fortunes. What does that mean?
Well, it means Donald Lau is asleep on the job. That everyone at these joints is asleep on the job. I always thought being a fortune cookie writer (much like a lipstick namer) would be a fun job, but it turns out that job doesn’t exist. So much for job security. Color me totally heartbroken.
Did anyone I know shop at Borders? I didn’t, but when it was going out of business, I couldn’t help but stop by and check out what was remaining. I found this book, which was on a lot of end-of-year Christmas gift lists in 2010. It was pretty expensive, so I never bought it, but I couldn’t argue with picking it up for $5.
The idea behind the book is that it has little capsule entries of “exquisite” things, which sounds right up my alley. What, exactly, is exquisite, might you ask?
“Enthusiasm.” “Lipstick.” “Silence.” “Fanfare.” “Giochi d’Acqua.” “Gloves.” “String.” You get the idea. I like all those things and the writing is fun and clear, but I was bored to tears throughout.
I’ve got two gripes with this little volume.
First and foremost was the definition of “exquisite.” Can we discuss that for a second? Geishas, yes. Okay, geishas are exquisite. Is string? I don’t know that it is. This book, more than anything, felt like a small collection of things Jessica Kerwin Jenkins (a Vogue editor whose work I like!) found interesting and wanted to research for a few hours.
The other thing I don’t love about this book is how much it skips around. Okay, so I know there’s a disclaimer that this is an anecdotal book, but it’s just…so anecdotal. I don’t doubt that it’s all factual– indeed, it seems to be pretty thoroughly checked out– but my gosh! It skips around so much. I felt like I didn’t really learn anything about anything, and that even the entries that interested me most examined only a teeny facet of whatever it was that was fascinating. Tell me more about Catherine the Great’s love notes! I want to know more about ill-fated hot air balloon rides! I felt like I had to sit through some silly entries (string) and I didn’t get enough of the stuff I had really signed up for by reading this book. Overall, I couldn’t wait to be finished with this book so I could move on to my next thing. I feel like this would work out better as a blog (which it is, and it does!).
Did you read this? What did you think? Did I overpay?
Next week, I’ll be reading this. Please, please join me. I’m really excited to share this one with you.
I didn’t know it was possible for it to get better than this, but I was mistaken.