This, Ladies and Gentleman, is the perfect Martini. At least when it comes to being true to what creating a Martini is all about. Which would be to create the perfect Martini, of course.

As you can see, the garnish is a lemon twist, which according to this book my girlfriend gave me for my birthday, was the original garnish (and not the olive, which was introduced a while later and led to a lot of scoffing by Martini-purists).

I also used Dutch gin this time, which is said to have a fuller flavour than London gin. I must say, I think it was one of the best Martinis I’ve had to date.

men who were most open to casual sex were generally perceived as being more masculine-looking, with facial features that generally included squarer jaws, larger nose and smaller eyes. This finding confirms that women see masculine men as more likely to be unfaithful.

The research also showed that women who were open to short-term sexual relationships were usually seen by others as more attractive. These women tended to have wide eyes and large lips, and were usually viewed as more attractive by men.#

Uh, yes. So hot people tend to bed more people than ugly people. Did we really need a study for that? Especially one that uses the same logic as Phrenology?

The bluesy jazz she sang was betrayed by her rather witty, self-deprecating demeanor on stage. Her band, consisting of three black-clad guys, looked like they were having a really good time too.

With the concert being free of charge, the audience was not ideal, but fortunately, the accustics in front of the city hall are remarkably crisp, where even the hushed notes were discernible. Thus, even the fucking cunt (excuse my French, but the Internets is where I can vent. In real life I’m far too timid) behind us who couldn’t stop blabbing away on her phone about the “super jazz” she was listening to right now, wasn’t that much of a problem.

Here’s photos:

The bass player is the proud owner of the best beard of all times.

Melody Gardot forgot, or maybe pretended to, the chords and lyrics to a song they were about to play. Very charming.

Nevertheless, here’s another installment of my ‘tini Chronicles (’tini, as compared to Martini, is the way actual cocktail-insiders talk. Or it’s the way idiots talk, I haven’t quite figured that out yet).

I saw the above mixer-set advertised in the Sunday papers. It was really cheap, and since I don’t adhere to the saying that those who buy cheap, buy twice, I went and bought the set. I’m now in the fortunate position to be able to stir my Martini with a professional stirring spoon, which you may think is not much different from any other long-stemmed spoon, but you’re wrong. It’s actually got the pictogram of a Martini-glass stenciled right into it. What better way to stir your Martini than with a spoon that’s totally in the spirit of the whole venture?

And, if you compare images of earlier Chronicles, you’ll notice that the new shaker is of elegantly crafted metal, which lies in stark contrast to my first shaker, a stylish but yuppie-ish white plastic thing. Not that I didn’t like it! I’ll hold it dearly in my heart for the rest of my life for being the tool that helped me lose my cocktail-virginity, and maybe, in the years to come, I will dig it out again and use it just for old times’ sake.

In the end, what I prepared was a strict 2:1, dry Vermouth, three Olive-Martini. I think I noticed a slight metallic taste during the first sip, but that could have been mere imagination.

Yes, it’s a photo of a pink bike stencil. And it’s being sold in scores all over the world RIGHT NOW! Liz-Books, a publishing company in France that creates all sorts of coffee-table photo-books centered around various themes wanted to include this picture in their book Pink Attitude, and being the gracious person I am, I let them.

So if you want to own a piece of a real Richard-photography-publishing, go and buy the book (you are, I assume, already in possession of real Richard-writing publishing, right?). The picture is, I think, on page 325.

(The above link to the book is for Amazon.com. If you are not living in the US of A or need the book to be shipped to the Old World for whatever reasons {including birthday presents to family living abroad, which this book would be ideal for!} use Amazon France for ordering. Bonne chance!)

Now, the whole premise of the novel, according to widespread opinion, is to gross out as many people as possible. Which is an explanation for why the book was sold so often, even though just about everyone who’s read it claims it’s awful and worthless.

It’s a bit of a paradox really: people buy the book because it’s supposedly the grossest shit ever, then talk about how it’s definitely the grossest shit ever. But, surprisingly, I don’t find the book half bad. Sure, it’s set out to shock people, but seriously, having spent more than 15 years on the Internets, reading about this or that bodily fluid isn’t going to shock me (or most other people who pretend to). And, there is a quite a bit more to it than gross shit.

It’s basically the story of a dysfunctional family and the narrator, Helen Memel, happens to be the product of said family. The point of women being the victims of personal hygiene propaganda is a recurring theme and rings quite true, and even though it’s the center of discussions with Roche, it’s by far not the most prominent issue addressed in the book (but just happens to be a topic people react sensitively to. Zeitgeist, if you will).

In the end, the book is about alienation, broken families and what it’s like growing up as a girl nowadays. Hyperbole, as a stylistic device, is mostly found in poetry, so people are not used to finding it in prose, but “Feuchtgebiete” is, in its depiction of crass alternative hygiene practices and sexual acts usually unfit for girls Helen’s age, one big hyperbole. Which is what most readers didn’t see or didn’t care to see.

The book is not smut and it’s not porn either and while it’s one of the rare occasions of a woman being the frank narrator, it’s nothing new. But it’s a sad little story which didn’t feel like a total waste of time, and that’s enough for me.

Or in winter, when it gets really cold, forcing you to turn up that heater. Or in summer, when it gets so hot, you can either decide to stay in and perish or decide to go out and return after dark.

But living directly under the roof also has its downsides. Like when there’s some nice and healthy hail and your windows, slanted of course, are not made of bullet-proof glass and you’ve got a certain history with leaking windows and roofs anyway.

Which was the case today. So please, enjoy being in our shoes for the next 25 seconds (plural is no sign for delusions of grandeur, I’m actually referring to my girlfriend and me):

What you see is a variant of the Dusty Martini. While the original Dusty substitutes Vermouth with Scotch, I added the Scotch after mixing a 2:1 Dry Martini. The effect was a Martini that had lost most of its bitter edge and instead had most of the sweet Scotch flavour.

It’s definitely a good Martini variant, even though it doesn’t resemble the original Martini Dry a whole lot. Which, in the end, is not really a problem, because all I and probably everyone else wants, is a damn good drink.

So we went on a weekend trip to Bratislava for my sweetheart’s birthday. As always, I couldn’t refrain from thoroughly documenting our endeavours. I will post a few updates in the coming week about the trip, until then, have a look at the Bratislava set I uploaded to Flickr (including real names and tags, woohoo!).

I looked up that technique from a pro barkeeper demonstrating the preparation of a Martini Dry on the Bombay Sapphire website itself. Unfortunately I can’t link to the exact page, mainly because some weird law forces commercial websites featuring alcohol or tobacco to verify the visitors’ age. Which is done by entering your birth-date. It’s a fool-proof system really.

Now, here’s the important bit: did the Martini actually taste better that way? Well, technically, it didn’t. But drinking a Martini is a lot, A LOT about the manner of preparation. The drink itself? Not that important. Which means, the more elaborate the method of preparation, the better the drink. And in that light, yes, the taste was fantastic!