Spirit Day, Beauty Blogging, and Brambien (Low Calorie Spiced Cider)


a) It’s #SpiritDay, I’m home from work, which means I didn’t bother to draw on my eyebrows, so here’s a pic of my purple nails instead of a selfie:


b) Go like and share my business/beauty blog page, High Femme 420!

I’m trying to get better at blogging with consistency, but ADD, health issues, employment, and life tend to get in the way. I’m also discovering I have an “all or nothing” mindset, and thus a bad habit of over-thinking, over-explaining, and over-editing. If I feel a blog post isn’t hilarious, poignant, awe-inspiring, compelling, inspiring, and all those other big fancy ass words the critics use to convey fondness, I say “fuck it” and pour myself a drink instead.

Since I haven’t posted a recipe in a while either, why not share my favorite “nighty-night”?

Like most creative geniuses, (HA!) I suffer from insomnia and rely on prescription sleep aids, which don’t always work well on their own, so when I see the “warning” label “alcohol may intensify the effects of this medication”, I accept it as a challenge.

Challenge. Accepted.

Challenge. Accepted.

It should be noted that I’m not a medical professional in any capacity, but if you’re seeking medical advice on a wordpress site, you’re already fucked. Moving right along…

My sleep aid of choice is Ambien, and nighttime drink of choice is this concoction of hot apple cider, cinnamon tea, brandy, and ambien, which I’ve christened “brambien”.

I love hot cider, but it’s loaded with sugar, and as a T1D, I have to watch my carb intake (I have so many health issues, if I was a kitten, my mama would’ve eaten me).

My solution is to cut the cider with strong brewed cinnamon tea. It’s also more economical, which makes this ideal for holiday parties/potlucks, and cinnamon is naturally sweet, so additional sweeteners are usually unnecessary, but feel free to add a pinch of splenda if needed.

This can easily be made as a single serving for those petflix-n-chill nights with the cats, or a crockpot full for parties or especially rough days, just omit the pills if serving to others.


per serving:

1/2 cup apple cider (usually found in the produce section this time of year)

1/2 hot water

1 cinnamon tea bag (I use celestial seasonings, apple cinnamon)

pills to taste

slice(s) of orange and/or lemon (optional)

fuckton of brandy (optional, but if using, always add just before serving so the alcohol doesn’t evaporate)

For single serving; heat cider and water in a microwave-safe measuring cup for 3 minutes, add teabag and lemon/orange slices if using, and brew for 3-5 minutes, add booze and enjoy over pills.

For a crockpot full (12ish generous servings); in a large soup pot, heat 1/2 gallon cider and 1/2 gallon water on stove top until boiling, dump in crockpot, and add 10 teabags, and lemon/orange slices if using, and allow to brew on low heat, add brandy just before serving.



Flashback Friday; A Better Late than Never Fuck You to Mrs. Kearns and Sugar-free Strawberry Lemonade

Sorry, y’all, I haven’t done a flashback Friday in a while on account of my ADD (Is it safe to put coconut oil in my ears? I should google that. brb…)

Anywho, though I try not to hold a grudge (HA!), I often remember weirdly specific details of my childhood at random times, and while thinking of the plot for my second novel, my train of thought led me to my fifth grade teacher Mrs. Kearns (sp? Anyone who went to Walton Elementary in the early 90s? I don’t care enough to check myself.)

That old sack of dicks was pure evil! In addition to referring to the civil war as “the war of northern aggression” and slut shaming me in front of the entire class for wearing a *gasp* sleeveless dress on a 100+ degree day in a tiny classroom with no air-conditioning, she encouraged the class to bully me and a couple other classmates whom she deemed unworthy of basic human decency. What a coincidence the three of us were the only not-white kids. Don’t get me wrong; she hated white kids too, as long as they were poor.

If we offended her in any way, from asking a question she felt we should have already known the answer to, or needing to use the pencil sharpener, we’d be forced to stand outside (regardless of weather) until she calmed the fuck down.

The first few times this happened, I was devastated. I had never been in trouble or even sent to the principal’s office before, so I’d sit on the sidewalk and cry, and then she’d poke her badly permed, wrinkly, scrotum head out the door to call me stupid and yell at me for crying.

After a while, I learned that sitting outside was a great way to escape her wrath and the bullying from my classmates, so I’d purposely annoy her and await my “punishment”. She once threw me out for wearing a temporary tattoo of a heart on my upper arm. I wasn’t even trying that day! She accused me of “attention seeking”, yet she’s the one who interrupted her own lesson to point out something that had gone unnoticed all morning? Makes perfect sense.

Speaking of bullying from classmates;

Fuck you. Chris Headrick!

Fuck you, some dude named Ben whose last name I don’t remember!

Fuck you, Aaron Schilenger!

Natasha, you’re cool.

Fuck you, some chick named Dana whose last name I also don’t remember!

Fuck you, Morgan Beale!

Fuck you, about 20 other twatwaffles whose names I can’t remember!

Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah!

Prince George county schools used to participate in the “accelerated readers program”, which was really just blatant exploitation of students to reward the shitty school system with additional funding, but the way it worked was Newberry award winning books were given an arbitrary points system, and for each book read, students could turn in their points in exchange for junk food, soda, slap bracelets, and mini troll dolls (for readers under 20, trolls are the predecessors to beanie babies).

Being that I gave nary a flying furry fuck about islands of blue dolphins or vagabond siblings squatting in an abandoned boxcar, I chose to forgo the trinkets and read stuff I actually enjoyed, Goosebumps, Bone Chillers, (this is incredibly mortifying to admit)  Babysitters club and *shudders* Sweet Valley Twins.

Scrotumface was having none of this “fun” business in her classroom! She accused me of being a “bump on a log” and said I needed to be more of an “eager beaver” (ohhhhh, if she only knew 😉 ) and when I still didn’t didn’t acquiesce to her literary demands, you guessed it; she sent me outside, only this time with an assignment “If you don’t like what these college educated scholars wrote for spoiled, ungrateful brats like you, then write a better story!”

I sat on the blistery hot sidewalk in my white denim skort *shuddersx4* and wrote a short story called Premonition (pretty impressive word for a 10 year old, if you ask me) about a 10 year old girl who dreamed about bad things happening before they happened, and was thus always able to thwart the catastrophe, until one day, she dreams of her own death in a car accident at the age of 11 and must spend an entire year avoiding car rides. Maybe not a Steven King quality thriller, but considering I was put on the spot under duress, I did a damn fine job.

Of course Book Nazi was displeased and told me I’d never be a writer and that I wore too much makeup (bubblegum lipsmackers is considered makeup?!) and cared more about earrings and shaving my legs than school. Seriously, what. The. Actual. Fuckity fuck?!

So my second novel is dedicated to you, Mrs. Kearns. Suck it, cuntcake. Oh, and here’s a photo of me “seeking attention”. Take note of the makeup, nosering, tattoos, and boobs, and blow it out your ass. I’m a writer, Bitch! Bless your heart 😉

Does anyone stick around for the recipes anymore?

Sugar-Free Strawberry Lemonade:

1 cup each lemon juice, strawberries (or any other fresh or frozen fruit of your choice), splenda, and ice.

6 cups cold water.

1 cup clear liquor of your choice (flavored vodka or rum works great!) “Optional” (Haha! Booze is “optional”?! Bitch, please!)

Put everything in a blender and blend the fuck out of it.

Flashback Friday; Atkins Attacks & Sexy Daiquiris

Several years ago while on the atkins diet, my then husband begged me to eat a carb so he could get a good nights sleep without me yelling at him and sobbing (I later learned I was suffering from “atkins attacks”; a condition having to do with serotonin levels that causes shit losing) so I went in search of a diet that would be as effective as atkins, but allow me to maintain some dignity and decorum.

I stumbled upon an article about Bethenny Frankel and how she lost “tons of weight” following a “simple philosophy” so I rushed out to buy her book, Naturally Skinny, I didn’t have cable or internet at the time, so I had no way of knowing what a whiny, screechy, fuckstick she is.

Her book is shit. Actually, shit is useful in the form of fertilizer so her book is worse than shit. It has more contradictions than the bible and is somehow even less interesting, but to her credit, slightly less misogynistic.

After trudging through 200 plus pages of her literary diarrhea and self praise, and finding out that by “tons of weight” she meant TWENTY FIVE FUCKING POUNDS, I was fed up and went back to the bookstore to return it. I was relieved to see that the cashier was a couple of sizes larger than me and figured she would take pity on my plight.

Me: “I’d like to return this book please”

Cashier: “Okay. Is there anything wrong with it?”

Me: “Yeah, this bitch swears she lost ‘tons of weight’ come to find out she lost twenty five fucking pounds. I could crap twenty five pounds if girls could crap”

Cashier: “I crap twenty five pounds after my second coffee. Who does this chick think she is?”

Me: “Oh, and her “weight loss plan” pretty much amounts to she quit eating a bag of chips every day. I don’t even remember my last chip! This book is shit!”

Cashier: (taking my receipt) “Amen, Sistah! (looks at my receipt and pauses) Ooohhh….”

Me: “What do you mean ‘ooohhh’?”

Cashier: “You purchased this book almost three weeks ago”

Me: “Yeah, I have A.D.D. and this book is fucking boring! Is that kitty wearing a collar?”

Cashier: “All returns must be made within two weeks of purchase. That’s a feral cat. But you can donate this to the troops serving over seas”

Me: “I have more respect for the troops than that”

And with that, I grabbed my $25 piece of future cat litter and walked out. In order to spare my dear readers the trauma, I shall paraphrase Naturally Skinny for you in less than 250 words:

You can eat three bites of any food you want, but NO MORE THAN THREE!!!! There’s no need to restrict yourself. You can eat whatever you want! Don’t let yourself go hungry. If you find yourself hungry after you’ve eaten 1200 calories for the day then suck it up. Drink green tea instead of eating more. It’s a myth that men find larger ladies attractive. You don’t want to end up with a weirdo chubby chaser, do you? Then lose the fucking weight. I lost 25 lbs by skipping the chips everyday. Put the fucking chips down! If you drink soda you’re going to hell. If you drink diet soda, you shall bring forth the rise of the anti-christ. You don’t have to exercise if you don’t want to. You MUST be active!!! Run, skate, aerobics, you have to exercise! Don’t eat on the run, unless you’re super important like me, but you’re not, so don’t. Don’t do quick fixes. Try my “cleanse”. Never ask the waiter to remove the bread basket. DON’T EAT ANY FUCKING BREAD!!!!

As if her books weren’t insufferable enough, (her newest one is called A Place of Yes. Is this cunt even trying to be serious? Let me rush out and find out how it’s possible that a college educated, rich, white girl found success!) she also has a line of  nasty liquor drinks called SkinnyGirl Cocktails. Lordty Jaysusssss, give me strength!

First of all, I drink to get fucked up. If I gave a flying rat’s ass about calories, I’d stick to water. Second, SkinnyGirl? Seriously? Who decided skinny was so great? Not that there’s anything wrong with being skinny, but there’s nothing wrong with not being skinny either. We’re all fucking awesome! Which is why I call this libation “Sexy”, not SkinnyGirl, because skinny doesn’t necessarily equal sexy, and guys can drink it too 🙂

You can use any frozen fruit you like in this recipe, but strawberries, peaches, raspberries, pineapple, or mango work the best. You can leave out the sweetener if you’re hard core like that and save 60 calories and 15 carbs. Sugar kills your buzz anyway.

The great thing about mixing alcohol with whole fruit is that the fiber and antioxidants counteract the aging effect of alcohol, plus, you can easily knock out several servings of the 5-9 recommended servings of fruits and vegetables whilst getting fucked up. It’s a total win/win. Just be careful; it’s very easy to go from this:flapper

to this:


in a rather short period of time 🙂

I prefer Bacardi coconut rum for this recipe, but any rum should work. I stick to clear liquors because they seems to cause less of a hangover.

Sexy Daiquiris:

1 cup frozen fruit

1 oz rum (a shot glass full, or 2 T)

1 T fresh lemon or lime juice (Bottled is fine, but fresh is better)

1 T sweetener (optional)

1/4 cup club soda (Any clear soda should work, but you definitely want the carbonation. I’ve used orange soda before out of desperation, wasn’t bad)

1 cup ice.

Add all ingredients to blender and blend on high until smooth. Serves 1.

100_1313Yes, that’s a jelly jar, and yes, I’m drinking while it’s still daylight out. Don’t hate 🙂