If You Don't Like Them, My Boyfriend Will Donkey Punch You.



Presenting: The Irish Car Bomb Cupcake

 I am not a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick maker.  I tell you, though, after my baking excursions last night, I surely needed a tub after I was finished.
I don't bake from scratch and now I remember why.  I've been excited about baking these damn cupcakes since I found the recipe online a few weeks ago.  Like, jump up and down excited.  I ordered pizza to be delivered last night, so I didn't have to worry about dinner, opened up a Guinness, had the music going, and got to work.  "Woo hoo!!! Cupcakes!!!"
 4 fucking hours later, I was ready to scream, rip my hair out, then pass out in my clothes on my bed.   I did stop during points because I ended up not having enough butter, had to go find some, and had to vent and whine to Mike a little. Oh...and I had kids coming into the kitchen needing something every 5 fucking minutes.  Let's not forget that.  There was no yield on the recipe, so I...being the genius that I am...doubled it.  Holy batter, Batman!  I ended up making 52 of those suckers, which ended up being a good thing, because I burnt the bottoms of the first batch.  Here's what I learned during my escapade:

1.  Don't double the recipe.  Just make 24 god damn cupcakes.
2.  Sifting dry ingredients together sucks.  Especially when you don't own sifter.
3.  Don't worry about drinking too much while baking...it COULD make the situation a lot happier.  I, obviously, did not drink enough.
4.  It's best NOT to use margarine in your buttercream.  They don't call it BUTTERcream for nothin'.
5.  SugarFree vanilla flavoring for coffee works wonderfully when you run out of vanilla extract.
6.  If you don't own cooling racks, the bottom rack from the oven sitting on top of a roaster pan works like magic.
7.  Do not try to make buttercream with a cheap $6 hand mixer.  It will burn up the mechanics and it will no longer mix...ANYTHING.
8.  Trying to whisk your buttercream by hand to the right consistency sucks more than sifting.
9.  Getting a ganache to the right consistency is harder than the internet tells you.
10.  Buy the bigger bags for piping the icing.  Always buy the bigger bags.
11.  I am one hell of a messy baker.

Regardless of all of this, the cupcakes are delicious.  And they look pretty.  Everyone says they are awesome.  Which, they better...because Mike said, and I quote:
"I had no doubt about your baking ability and I hope that EVERYONE truly appreciates the sacrifice that you made so that they could have some of your alcoholic based baked goods. Or I will donkey punch them. I love you very much dear."  Booyah!
You better like those cupcakes.

So, here's to chocolate-Guiness-whiskey cupcakes, with Bailey's buttercream, and a whiskey ganache.  Now let's go enjoy ourselves and call ourselves Irish!

Stroking the Furry Wall

I was going to say you need to google the title if you don't know what it means, but you'll probably also come up with a whole slew of other nasty, tasteless images.  Let's google, shall we? :)

This is what I'm referring to.

Anyway, I feel busy.  I feel busy (according to Aldous Snow, stroking a soft furry wall will ease my tension...if you haven't seen "Get Him to the Greek", you must!). It's probably the jellybeans I just ate.  My head is racing, filling with all these things I've got going on, but in reality...I'm sitting at my desk bored out of my gourd.

I finally tried Zumba last week and it totally kicked ass.  The teacher was awesome and the class was filled with fun people, cool music, and great dance moves.  It was a titty rubbing/shaking, gyrating, ass-slapping good time.  I am not exaggerating on any of those points.  We did all three...several times.  The teacher slapped my ass a few times and we all know that if the class totally sucked, I'd probably go back just for some more of that.  I made a friend who was also just joining the class and I can't wait to go back.  I don't know when I will be back though...because I broke my toe...or jammed a few really bad...I don't know what the hell I did, but my foot hurts and my toes are all black and blue.  Pretty damn disgusting.  I can move my toes, but it hurts like hell to have my foot in a shoe and walk.

Here's what happened:  I wore flip flops and I'm clumsy.  The End.

Actually, I took Mike for his birthday to see the Cubs play this weekend.  I was walking down the cement steps to our seats, when all of a sudden, my foot flies underneath me and I'm landing on my ass trying not to spill my beer all over myself.  It was comical.  Embarrassing.  I wasn't even drinking yet!  What was even more comical was that I almost did it AGAIN after a bathroom/beer break.  Flip flops will be the death of me.  We had a great time, regardless.  We went downtown afterwards and walked around, until I just couldn't take it anymore and had to go home to put my foot up.  We spent Sunday having coffee, reading the paper, and watching movies.  It was gloriously lazy and I enjoyed having him around.

On the agenda of possible blog-worthy life moments:

Wednesday night I will be baking (yes. baking.) Irish Car Bomb cupcakes for some of my favorite people.  I'm not a baker, but a recipe with Guiness, whiskey, and Bailey's in it cannot be passed up.  Truly.

Thursday is St. Patrick's Day.  I'll deliver cupcakes and do a little drinking with some industry peeps (HOA industry...NOT entertainment industry) and Mike at a local event.

I should be getting a new hood for my truck this weekend. Woot!

There is a certain young and sassy person's Mardi Gras themed birthday party coming up in a few weeks as well.  Beads + Margaritas = Good times!

Luckily, I have a new battery on order for my camera.  I need to incorporate some photos, I think!