November 13, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: Monsters

November 13, 2015

Writers Bone

Welcome to Songs, Stories, and Spirits. We’ll be jamming unwanted opinions on good music, good stories, and good booze down your ears, eyes, and throats on a weekly basis. We hope you enjoy. And if you don’t, there is a comment section below that we more than welcome you to ignore! Cheers!

Song: “Monsters” by Electric President

Robert Masiello: Electric President fell off the radar rather abruptly in 2010, without much commotion. Their brief discography remains criminally underrated, despite an appearance on “The OC” soundtrack way back in the Paleozoic era. Sounding like a darker, dreamier version of The Postal Service, Electric President’s wistful brand of electronica found the perfect middle-ground between catchy and surreal. "Monsters," the opening track from their best album (2008's “Sleep Well”), weaves a haunting narrative that deftly balances darkness and light. Maybe it's a song about battling society's ills. Maybe it's about struggling with the monsters within ourselves. Perhaps it just describes a fever dream. Whatever the case, let Electric President's lush, spooky atmospherics wash over you this Friday the 13th.

Story: “Monsters” by Scott Cheshire

Daniel Ford: Author Scott Cheshire has mastered the art of dropping readers into an instantly recognizable world. His debut novel, High as the Horses’ Bridles, embeds you in places like Queens, N.Y., California, and even 19th century Kentucky so deeply it feels as if you’re smoking a cigarette on a street corner watching the plot unfold. If Cheshire only accomplished that, he’d be a fine writer, however, he does something else that makes him an intriguing scribe to follow. I heard him do a reading at Queens College at the beginning of the year and he said something that stayed with me. He mentioned that because of his upbringing (which you can read about in my interview with him), he came to the writing profession late and feels as if he’s missed out on the “normal” route an author might take. Cheshire said that he doesn’t have time to mess around with linear plots or paper-thin characters that might sell more books. He wants to grapple with “big questions” and use his talent to tell complex stories in the vein of Don DeLillo and Paul Auster. I didn’t know who the hell those guys were before becoming friends with Cheshire, but now that I’ve read them, I know they’re two tough fucking acts to live up to. However, a writer like Cheshire just might be up to the challenge.

While you wait for him to publish his next novel, read his haunting short story “Monsters,” recently published by Catapult. Then drop him a line and tell him to hurry the hell up with his second book!

“Monsters”

Peyton walked into the dark hotel room, closed the door behind her, and set her briefcase on the floor. Standing in the shadows, by the bed, was her father.

He sat down and said, “How’s your mother?”

She didn’t like the question, because if he really wanted to know, he’d go visit and see for himself.

She noted the topography of the room. A large television sitting on a wooden desk. A chair. A mirror. The bed was neatly made, and she expected nothing less. Her bed back home was the same. She was a lot more like him than she cared to admit.

Read the rest on Catapult.

Spirit: The Drunken Cookie Monster

Daniel: Enough darkness! It’s Friday! By some miracle of Google, this video came up while I was searching for monster-related cocktails. I wouldn’t suggest actually making it because you’ll be drunk and develop diabetes instantly. Cheers!

FULL SONGS, STORIES, AND SPIRITS ARCHIVE

November 6, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: A Shot and A Beer

November 6, 2015

Writers Bone

Song: “Try All You Want” by The Silks

Daniel: Earlier this year, Dave Pezza walked into Writer’s Bone HQ raving about this band called The Silks he saw perform at a dive bar in Providence, R.I. I’ve learned to trust Dave’s taste in music, so I listened to the first track I came across on YouTube. It’s remained my favorite for a variety of reasons. The video is shot in a casual setting and features a band member playing an inflatable pool float. Also, it’s immediately evident how much these guys love playing together and enjoy making music in general. Their gritty, All-American sound forces you to start tapping your foot right away and makes you long for that first shot of Jim Beam to scorch down your throat, burning away the lingering aftertaste of another week paying the corporate piper. “When I’m gone, I’m gone/Won’t be back this way” sums up how you should feel on a Friday afternoon (and Saturday morning once your hangover has lifted).

As Dave wrote in May, The Silks’ are a band eking out a musical existence one show and one record sale at a time. They should be filling stadiums, people! To help them out, buy the band’s debut album and spread the word. Look for an interview with The Silks in the near future as well!

Story: “Beautiful Trash” by Jordon Harper

Daniel: Author Jordan Harper’s short story collection Love and Other Wounds cracked a beer bottle over my head repeatedly. Each story featured characters living on the fringe of society throughout the United States. Rebels, fugitives, thugs, and degenerates darken every page and struggle to keep their heads above the shadows threatening to consume them. It was hard to narrow down a favorite, however, “Beautiful Trash” is a tale that would be right at home on Writer’s Bone. The tale depicts a chilling romance between two people whose job it is to clean up the bodies left behind by homicidal Hollywood big shots.

“They meet over the body of a beautiful dead boy. Green likes her right away. Her hands don’t shake. She doesn’t make bad jokes or cry or act cold. A lot of people wouldn’t handle their fear so well. After all, it is her first corpse.”

I really don’t need to say any more, right? Fine, to borrow one of Sean’s favorite sayings, this story has no fat and a cinematic feel thanks to Harper’s day job as a screenwriter. If you’re ordering our drink of choice at happy hour, might have to make it a double if you’re Friday evening plans include Love and Other Wounds.

Spirit: Boilermaker

Dave Pezza: The tried and true boilermaker is a perfect complement to this week’s song. Both are straightforward, badass, and perfect to kick off a good ole Friday night. Here is how you make it: Take your favorite whiskey and pour it into a shot glass, and then take you favorite beer and pour it into a pint glass. Shoot the shot and then drink the beer. Boom. Simple, no frills, and it gets you into the best kind of mood, an inebriated one.

FULL SONGS, STORIES, AND SPIRITS ARCHIVE

October 16, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: Up All Night

October 16, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs: “Late in the Evening” by Paul Simon and Beethoven’s “9th Symphony”

Daniel Ford: Paul Simon’s “Late in the Evening,” has been on my writing playlist for as long as I can remember. Along with Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark,” it perfectly encapsulates what it means to write late into the night fueled by passion, caffeine, or other drugs. In particular, this stretch of lyrics gets my typing fingers moving briskly across the keyboard:

And when I came back to the room/Everybody just seemed to move/And I turned my amp up loud and I began to play/And it was late in the evening/And I blew that room away

That’s how you should be writing at any time of day, never mind in the wee small hours of the morning. You’re not writing to be “okay.” You’re not writing material that’s “good enough” to get published. You’re crafting a story for greatness, and anything less than that isn’t worthy enough for an all night binge. You should be able to heat up your coffee with the heat and fire flaming out of your ideas.

Shawn Vestal, author of the short story collection “Godforsaken Idaho” and one of our early interviews, gave us some advice that’s perfect for the insomniac writer: “Work hard. Do not wait around for inspiration—inspiration comes more often when you’re working than when you’re waiting.”

Sean Tuohy: If you’re up all night you don’t need lyrics. You need epic scores. No words. Something that matches the mood.

Story: “Professor Sea Gull” by Joseph Mitchell

Daniel: There was no better chronicler of New York City’s seedy late shift during the 1930s and 1940s than The New Yorker’s Joseph Mitchell. A former editor gave me a compilation of his work a couple of years ago as a Christmas gift and I’ve been slowly reading it ever since in order to savor each tale.

One of Mitchell’s most well known profile is “Professor Sea Gull,” which first appeared in The New Yorker in 1942 and features an “emancipated little man” named Joe Gould. Gould is a vagabond “tormented by what he calls ‘the three H’s’—homelessness, hunger, and hangovers.” The Yankee “night wanderer“ that haunted New York City’s bars, diners, and subways also penned an epic oral history that Mitchell described as “a great hodgepodge and kitchen madden of hearsay, a repository of jabber, an omnium-gatherum of bushwa, gab, palaver, hogwash, flapdoddle, and malarkey.” Pft, what writer hasn’t heard that from a literary agent or editor?

Perhaps my favorite part of the feature is Mitchell describing what fuels Gould:

“He tells people that he lives on ‘air, self-esteem, cigarette butts, cowboy coffee, fried-egg sandwiches, and ketchup.’ Cowboy coffee, he says, is strong coffee drunk black without sugar. ‘I’ve lost my taste for good coffee,’ he says. ‘I much prefer the kind that sooner or later, if you keep drinking it, your hands will begin to shake and the whites of your eyes will turn yellow.’”

Needless to say, Gould is my spirit animal.

I wasn’t able to find the entire feature online, but you can read it if you subscribe to The New Yorker. It would be well worth it for just this story alone.

Spirit: Irish Coffee

Dave Pezza: Coffee is an elixir for mortals. Hot or cold, morning or night, coffee allows one to accept and occasionally thrive during the ungodly sober hours. But let’s be honest with ourselves; coffee lacks one fundamental element that would make the ultimate power in the universe: booze. But somewhere in Ireland centuries ago, a forgotten hero invented the mother of all drinks, the Irish Coffee. Today we live in a world of endless Instagram and Pinterest concoctions of drinks and foods and all manner of palatable Frankenstein monsters. The alcoholic coffee, though, remains one of God’s simplest and most enjoyable creations.

My personal favorite among this glorious genre is the Irish Crème Coffee. Simply pour your favorite brand of coffee (I personally prefer Dunkin Donuts Dark Roast; it’s a perfect medium coffee with just enough flavor that never overpowers) and instead of adding your usual regiment cream, milk, sugar, or nothing (if you’re a tasteless anhedonic dweeb and drink your coffee black) add Bailey’s Irish Cream. It complements the coffee surprisingly well and, for those of us who like a little pick-me-up before or during work, is not noticeable on the breath or in the cup. Enjoy, and wake up responsibly.

FULL SONGS, STORIES, AND SPIRITS ARCHIVE

October 9, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: We Started the Fire

October 9, 2015

Writers Bone

Song: “Fire” by Gino Parks

Daniel Ford: You’ve got to love a song whose lyrics feature the refrain, “I feel like fire.” Gino Parks’ “Fire,” released by Tamla in 1962, should get you grooving while you’re sitting at your writing desk with a head full of half-baked ideas.

According to a blog post, Parks only recorded three records that featured five songs in his brief, underappreciated solo career. We’re all lucky that “Fire” was one of them. If you’re not lighting a match, dropping into an unreadable first draft, and then strutting out the door headed for a bar, then you’re not doing Friday right.

This musical “red hot furnace” will keep you warm all night, so just play it on repeat until the sun comes back up.

Story: “Fire and Ice” by Anne Leigh Parrish

Daniel: If you haven’t read author Anne Leigh Parrish’s short story “Fire and Ice” yet, stop reading this post and get on that. Parrish has been a tremendous supporter of Writer’s Bone for a long time, and it’s been an honor to have her words appear on our site. Once you’re done reading “Fire and Ice,” check out “Smoke,” the short story that launched our original fiction series.

Parrish is also the first author to send me a blurb for my novel, which I’m happy to share with our readers (and any perspective literary agents):

“Sid Sanford loves three things: baseball, his family, and women. The first two don’t cause him any trouble, and are a source of happiness and inspiration. Women, on the other hand, threaten to be his downfall. To say he is a serial dater is a gross understatement. Sid has a big heart, and gives it away time and again, usually with disastrous results. Heavy drinking gets in the way of romance all too often. And when he loses someone close to him, and believes he’s responsible, Sid’s world takes on an even darker hue. Can Sid overcome his crippling sense of guilt and self-destructive behavior? Will he ever find the one woman who can make him whole? Daniel Ford’s fine, sensitive debut novel, Sid Sanford Lives!, follows a young man as he comes of age, matures, and gains both wisdom and a measure of peace.”

I couldn’t be more thrilled that Anne took the time to read my novel and send that over. I hope she’s hard at work because I’m looking forward to all of her future work!

Spirit: The Flaming Homer

Daniel: There are plenty of actual drinks we could have chosen to go along with our fire theme, but we do that when we can showcase a fictional one from a classic episode of “The Simpsons?”

Ah, the Flaming Homer. A drink whose creation depended upon a cigarette ash, but won’t make you go blind. Plus, it has its own theme song (granted, it was penned after Moe stole the idea, but still)! Things don’t go great for Homer or Moe in this episode (shocking, I know, considering Moe’s excellent track record), but at least it birthed a drink to make you forget everyone’s name (including your own).

Sean Tuohy: I like to believe that Homer Jay Simpson is a trendsetter. Yes, all the rappers are drinking cough medicine now but where did they get the idea? The same places that most rappers get their ideas: middle-aged bald, yellow men with drinking problems.

The Flaming Homer is a drink that brings together the best of friends or turns them into backstabbers. Also, it is a drink that will make members of The Red Hot Chili Peppers sleep with Bart's fourth grade teacher (yikes). Also, besides being a great name for a drag queen comedian, the Flaming Homer helps you forget your troubles and feel like Lil' Wayne at the same time.

FULL SONGS, STORIES, AND SPIRITS ARCHIVE

October 2, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: I Have Dreamed of Frank Sinatra

October 2, 2015

Writers Bone

By Daniel Ford

Song: “I Have Dreamed” by Frank Sinatra

It’s probably sacrilege to choose this song over all the other classic Frank Sinatra tunes, but I’ve been ensorcelled by the old crooner’s cover from “The King and I” for the past couple of weeks. My personal creative director, the lovely and talented Stephanie Schaefer, implored me to write a love story she might actually want to read, and listening to great love songs has been part of my research process. As an old soul, I’ve gravitated toward older ballads because there’s no way to write an original romance to One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful.” I have a vintage vinyl of Sinatra’s “In the Wee Small Hours,” but the love featured on that album is bitter, tortured, and lonely, and more suited to my previously published short stories. I needed music that was exuberant and optimistic. You know, like a spirited number from a beloved musical sung by a honey-toned voice in a tuxedo! This is what the beginning of love should sound like; sweeping, wistful, hypnotic. Oscar Hammerstein II struck romantic gold when he put these lyrics to paper:

Alone and awake, I've looked at the stars/The same that smile on you/And time and again, I've thought all the things/That you were thinking too

I’m sure the song got a rousing applause during its first run on Broadway, but, my god, there’s no way it could have possibly topped the majesty of Sinatra belting it out while backed by an orchestra. I know my future story is unlikely to reach the soaring heights of this ballad, but it’s always nice to have something to aspire to when sitting down to write.

Story: “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” by Gay Talese

Gay Talese’s Esquire feature “Frank Sinatra Has a Cold” ran in April 1966 and “became one of the most celebrated magazine stories ever published, a pioneering example of what came to be called New Journalism.”

New Journalism, for those that don’t know, is a style of news writing that reads more like fiction. Think Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood, Norman Mailer’s The Executioner’s Song, or Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. The style was developed in the 1960s and 1970s and can be electrifying if used for the right subject. Frank Sinatra proved to be one such subject.

See if you can dig Talese’s opening line:

Frank Sinatra, holding a glass of bourbon in one hand and a cigarette in the other, stood in a dark corner of the bar between two attractive but fading blondes who sat waiting for him to say something.

The entire piece is pure poetry, but the following paragraph transcends the bonds of any classification:

Sinatra with a cold is Picasso without paint, Ferrari without fuel -- only worse. For the common cold robs Sinatra of that uninsurable jewel, his voice, cutting into the core of his confidence, and it affects not only his own psyche but also seems to cause a kind of psychosomatic nasal drip within dozens of people who work for him, drink with him, love him, depend on him for their own welfare and stability. A Sinatra with a cold can, in a small way, send vibrations through the entertainment industry and beyond as surely as a President of the United States, suddenly sick, can shake the national economy.

I won’t spoil any more of the rest for you. Since the weather in the Northeast appears bleak this weekend, turn on Old Blue Eyes, pour a classy cocktail into a glass, and devour the rest of this feature.

Spirit: Old Fashioned

If Frank Sinatra is providing the music, who better than Don Draper to handle the booze?

I recently finished re-watching the entire “Mad Men” series, and have been jonesing for fedoras, sharp suits, dames, and an Old Fashioned, Draper’s favorite cocktail. The handsome bastard looks so damn cool ordering one, never mind when he’s knocking it back in preparation to charm the skirt off the waitress.

According to Los Angeles Magazine, the perfect Old Fashioned can be found at Eric Alperin’s The Varnish. The bar’s recipe “is closer to the original because the bar uses block ice, a sugar cube as opposed to simple syrup, and bourbon.” Alperin also states, “What’s great about the Old-Fashioned is that I feel like it’s a drink you get a relationship with. It’s like a cigar. When you light a cigar it’s not in its perfect spot. Only 10 minutes later you’re like, ‘Yeah, that’s where I want my cigar to be.’”

But who are we kidding? Don Draper makes the best Old Fashioned:

Also, according to Draper, an Old Fashioned is best enjoyed while grabbing your favorite copy chief and swaying to Sinatra.

FULL SONGS, STORIES, AND SPIRITS ARCHIVE

September 25, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: Big City Blues

September 25, 2015

Writers Bone

Song: “L.A. Looks” by Health

Robert Masiello: Health’s music is typically dark, noisy, powerful, and a little abrasive. This cut off the band’s recent LP is all of those things, but also happens to be catchy as hell. “L.A. Looks” charges out of the gate with screeching synths and a furious beat. It's easily the most "pop" moment in Health’s catalog, but also the most irresistible. The vocals might be a little Chester Bennington-y, but the chorus ("it's not love, but I still want you") is exactly the kind of salacious, no-fucks-given refrain your Friday afternoon needs.

Story: “Parliament Hill” by Alexander Brown

Daniel Ford: From Los Angles to Canada! Alexander Brown, managing editor of Tracer Publishing, published a short story with Writer’s Bone entitled “Toronto, October” in June, and has since become part of our merry band of literary luminaries.

Brown recently published “Parliament Hill,” which is a “gonzo-ish dark comedy on the relative horrors of this Canadian election.” If anything deserves to be read with a drink in hand, it’s a story about Canadian politics.

Enjoy the excerpt, published with permission from Brown, and then head over to Tracer to finish the tale.

“Parliament Hill”

The man in the mirror was looking back at him as he rehearsed the lines he knew so well. The practice was a mere formality. But this was his craft. He loved it; he was married to it. It had been predetermined, of course. His fate was never his own. But Jordan could still enjoy himself.

“So I call on you, the Middle Class. Keep rising up! Be heard! Take to the streets! This election is about you, and for too long, the Prime Minister has put himself and the interests of his party ahead of—”

The bus caught a pothole on the Highway of Heroes and he braced himself on the plastic counter of the bathroom. The air was thick with bleach and asparagus-scented urine. He steadied himself and straightened his purple tie. He couldn’t remember the last time he was allowed to wear another colour around his neck. His father had worn the same noose. His father had no choice either.

The man in the mirror was smiling now, studying every inch and curve of his handsome, middle-aged face. His eyes were dark and knowing, his lips forever creased into an empathetic half-smile. Atop his head rested a luscious crop of dark, wavy hair.

“Perfect,” he whispered to no one but the universe.

He adjusted the family noose and stepped back out into a sea of purple.

Read the rest of the story on Tracer Publishing.

Spirit: In a Manhattan State of Mind

Daniel: When my grandmother on my father’s side was alive, she’d love to tell me stories about living in New York City during World War II. There’s the one when my grandfather’s father took her out one night while my grandfather was overseas, and then everyone assumed she had a sugar daddy on the side. One of her favorites was the time she told one of her employees that she couldn’t let her take time off to go see Frank Sinatra. The woman threatened to quit, at which point my grandmother begrudgingly acquiesced. I mean, you really can’t argue with Francis Albert Sinatra, right?

My grandmother and her friends also used to bar hop around the city. And it was far classier than the barhopping that I did in Manhattan. The hotels at that time were the best places to drink, so my grandmother and her friends would dress to the nines and dance across the island’s finest establishments.

Fifty years later, my grandmother tapped her foot to my high school jazz band performance of “String of Pearls” or “In the Mood” and reminisced about her New York youth. She’d end up telling all her old stories (despite giving my grandfather a hard time about regaling us with his war stories), and say, “I used to really enjoy a good Manhattan.” I asked my father about it recently and he said, “Yeah, she could knock them down pretty well.”

Truth be told, I’ve never had a Manhattan. I’m assuming that a drink comprised entirely of whiskey and vermouth can’t be bad. Plus, in the spirit of promoting our neighbor’s to the north, it can also be made with Canadian whiskey (Ha! No, I’m just kidding. Use real American whiskey). This Friday, put on a Glenn Miller album, pour yourself a tall Manhattan, and toast to a more civilized era.

FULL SONGS, STORIES, AND SPIRITS ARCHIVE

September 11, 2015

Writers Bone

Songs, Stories, and Spirits: The SteelDrivers, Joe Biden, and Moscow Mules

September 11, 2015

Writers Bone

Welcome to Writer’s Bone newest bastard child: Songs, Stories, and Spirits. Daniel Ford and I decided we're only going to break out Bruce/Bob, Bourbon, and Books on special occasions and retire it as one of our signature series. But don’t fret; we’ll still be jamming unwanted opinions on good music, good stories, and good booze down your ears, eyes, and throats on a weekly basis. We hope you enjoy. And if you don’t, there is a comment section below that we more than welcome you to ignore! Cheers!—Dave Pezza

Song

Dave: My slow descent into tolerance for country music has led me to a number of bands and artists I wouldn’t have touch with Jimmy Page’s 12-string guitar. One such artist is The SteelDrivers. To be honest, I don’t know much about them in a refreshing pre-21st century ignorance. What I do know is that the lead single off of their 2009 album, a track titled “If It Hadn’t Been For Love,” has invaded my head.

The track, and the band, might be a perfect compromise between blue grass and country, hitting all the best elements (stripped down banjo, violin, harmonizing male and female vocals) and none of the truly regrettable stigmas of each genre (that obnoxious country strum, overdone southern accents, and clichéd story premises). If you’re looking for a catchy track to belt out in the car or throw on the stereo while kicking around the house, you’ve got to give “If It Hadn’t Been For Love” a listen.

Story

Daniel: Politics can provide writers with a treasure trove of potential story ideas. But those plots typically involve scandal, corruption, and impropriety. Rarely does the opportunity arise for writers to observe a genuine human moment in the political arena. More often than not in our recent political discourse, those qualities are exemplified in Vice President Joe Biden. If you haven’t already, check out his interview with Stephen Colbert on the Sept. 10 edition of “The Late Show:”

Biden has been a public servant longer than most of our staff has been alive, but, even though he isn’t official a presidential candidate, he just made himself relevant in a way that the other Presidential candidates can’t. Regardless of your political affiliation, you can’t argue that Biden is a genuine, honest, human public servant. Sure he says dopey things typically reserved for drunk uncles or Rotary Club presidents, but at his core, he is still one of us. How many of your stories start with, “My mother said, this,” or “My father said, that?” Haven’t you told yourself, “Get up, get moving,” during moments of tragedy and sorrow? Haven’t you transformed your suffering into meaningful action or prose?

Storytellers—and I mean all storytellers, not just literary authors—tend to be at their best when exploring themes through characters that honestly and empathetically deal with the fictional world around them. We go into most stories searching for a bit of ourselves, along with a good plot and snappy dialogue. Biden’s story proves that you don’t have to mine the lowest, seediest aspects of the human experience in order to be entertaining and relatable.

Spirit

Dave: It’s Friday afternoon; you’ve almost made it through the week. Just a few more hours. If you’re anything like the Writer’s Bone staff, you’re using this time to decide what delicious alcoholic beverage you’re going to imbibe the minute you get home. Hopefully we can give you some more options to mull over as 5:00 p.m. slowly approaches.

Summer’s just about six feet under, but before you start buying your Shipyard Pumkpinhead and Jack-O Traveler beers in pint glasses rimmed with cinnamon and sugar…mmmmmm pumpkin beer…give one more refreshing summer cocktail a chance!

My girlfriend recently bought me some copper mugs, the mugs specifically used for the enjoyment of Moscow Mules. It was her subtle way of telling me that I should start making them for her. So like a 20-something adult in need of information, I Googled “how to make a Moscow mule,” and, as always, I was disappointed in my findings. I was able to gather the three main ingredients: vodka, ginger beer, and lime juice, all three of which were already in my home bar! After many, many tries, we finally arrived at a perfectly palatable summer drink. Perfect for lounging and perfect to quench your thirst. And if you find the sweet spot between vodka and ginger beer, you’ll have pounded two or three before you can slur “weshouldhaveeatenfirst.” I found a six- or seven-count of Kettle One vodka to a 10-count of Gosling’s ginger beer with a splash of lime juice, served in the famous copper cup loaded with ice, really does the trick.

Try one quick before summer’s officially over!