I just broke it off with my fiance in October, and I wanted a little fun. . . what? I wasn't going home with them or anything. My aunt was with me all night, so total fun! *sarcasm* Anywho, I got all sexy because I needed a little somethin' somethin', even if it was just a confidence boost.
I looked good too. Green lace cami under a loose white button up shirt and tight ass jeans make a girl look and feel good, and apparently I wasn't the only one feeling that way too. I had several guys chatting me up.
The first was an ex-military ranger. Nice guy, spoke five languages and was scarred up. SO, smart and war worn are checked off the list of wants. He was only about 4 inches taller than me, so I woulda liked him a little taller, and he was too thin. I would definitely call him attractive, but only an 8 out of ten.
Anywho, my aunt mimi was talking to him and I was on the other side of her because I couldn't block the walkway, so she kinda dominated the convo with him, but that's cool. I got a few words in, he showed me the scars on his arms, and told me a war story. He even wanted me to hold his beer, (although I am not a table), but he disappeared several times for about 5 mins to call someone or something. I don't know, but you don't keep a woman waiting in a bar for you. HEAR ME BOYS? DON'T MAKE A LADY WAIT!!!
Fortunately, he offered to get us a drink which I accepted (but I felt bad for him spending money on me, a stranger) but this brought about the awkward convo of my age. I told him I was 20 (Well, I will be in June!) His exact words were, "Ouch, that hurts". WTF does that mean? I would like to think that was because he was liking me a tad, but I don't know. Oh well, what he said after that made me think he was an ass.
He asked me if he could get me a drink or something, maybe a chocolate milk? Obviously harping on my age. Umm, men, that is a no no. Youth an wisdom are not mutually exclusive. And, I have skillz that would have fucked him up in the head, so his loss. Haha, I'm sure he will make that mistake again, but I sure as hell won't waste my time. Scars were sexy tho >.>
Other than the old drunk men who kept trying on my aunt's boa and using us to hold there shit again, It was a pretty tame evening. Got ice cream and walked the streets. We walked to the water front and got hella compliments on our outfits. All and all it was a good evening. Unfortunately, I didn't get my man.
I am thinking that I was cursed 'cause I didn't make me some lucky Boxty. DAMN MY LAZY ASS! You may be wondering what I am ranting about luck and not having. Well there is a poem that comes before every Boxty recipe. It is:
Boxty on the griddle, boxty in the pan, If you can't make boxty, you'll never get your man
So, obviously the equation is: no Boxty = no man.
. . . . Damn, and I thought it was only an old rhyme.
Anywho, so that you will always get your man in the end, I share with you the recipe.
8 oz/ 250 g/ 1 cup raw potato
8 oz/ 250 g/ 1 cup mashed potato
8 oz/ 250 g/ 2 cups plain flour
1 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
large knob of butter, melted
about 1/4 pt/ 125 ml/ 1/2 cup milk
Grate the raw potatoes into a bowl. Turn out onto a cloth and wring, catching the liquid. This will separate into a clear fluid with starch at the bottom. Pour off the fluid and scrape out the starch and mix with the grated and mashed potatoes. Sieve the dry ingredients and mix in along with the melted butter. Add a little milk if necessary to make a pliable dough. Knead lightly on a floured surface. Divide into four and form large, flat cakes. Mark each into quarters but do not cut right through, and bake on a griddle or in a heavy pan.
If liked, more milk and an egg can be added to make a batter which can be fried in bacon fat like drop scones.
It's traditional Irish fare, so potato is obvious. Idk what else to say, except I better make this before I go out again and pray to the Irish God that he sends me a man who can work it like I know I can ;-P
May the wind be at your back babies! Peace!
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