Ramy’s Advent Edition

It’s December, and Christmakwanzakuh is nearing with a frightening speed.

Thanksgiving at Chez KB was a raucous affair, complete with Lisa #1′ s boozy punch and STM’s attempts to eat us out of house and home.

(Incidentally, she failed. I did warn her not to underestimate my ability to churn out massive amounts of food.)

And Mr. Lisa #1 was disappointed that we didn’t create a holocaust with a turkey fryer accident.  But hey, NFL Guy and I are pros at frying large pieces of poultry in a vat of 4 gallons of seething peanut oil with a propane tank nearby.

Squeer Ramy had asked for eggnog recipes.  In lieu of possible salmonella, though, I want to offer up coquito.

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Happy Birthday, my friend.

It’s a certain someone’s birthday today.  You may know him as “ramy.”  Or you may know him as “Iowa apologist.”  Or you may know him, in his drunker and more idiotic times, as “shit disturber.”  I know him as one of my best friends ever in the whole wide world of things.  He’s a miscreant with a heart of gold.  He’s a genius with more brainpower than a mentally challenged rabbit.  He brings gastronomic excellence to those who cross his path.  He’s a sinner and a saint.  A sock and a shoe.  A lawyer and a chef.  A Hawkeye and a Wolverine.  I’d follow him to the gates of hell, but then I’d quickly turn back because it’s friggin’ hot in hell and he knows damn well I don’t like him that much.

Raise your glasses, squeeple.  It’s a celebration, bitches.