Abuse YOLO. I realize YOLO has already been abused but there's always more room for abuse <--- That is a really fucked up sentence. Not only is YOLO a means of justifying any and all poor life choices, but it truly improves the general well-being of your trip. At a certain point its overuse just turns into a huge joke. But it's a joke that works and somehow gets everyone to throw out their inhibitions. So if there's one thing you remember, it's use more YOLO. If you don't, you are at risk of later getting a bad case of FOMO (fear of missing out). Here are some real life examples of how YOLO has recently been used:
"Do you want to shotgun a beer?" "I think I'm going to puke" "YOLO"
"I thought you said you didn't know how to swim? Are you jumping off that dock?" "YOLO"
"That dude over there is hot" "Who, the 15 year old?" "YOLO"
Use Fireball instead of mouthwash. Or Rumplemintz if you're really trying to get buck.
You need at least one hipster. This doesn't mean your friend that just happens to ride a fixed gear bike to work and occasionally rocks a mustache. I'm talking true, authenic hipster. The one that bought skinny maroon pants before they were cool and maybe goes by the name of tigerelephant on instagram. Hipsters are an integral part of any party because they always have the best music. They are also more inclined to talk about all their feelings which is neat.
Make guests work for their food. Get them on their hands and knees to go clamming. Our host told us that was the only way we would be able to eat that night, and she said so while standing around watching us break our backs to provide. At one point I heard someone wimper "but my feet hurt," and I'm pretty sure someone else was crying softly to themselves while the cool breeze whipped their face. A kitten also died that day.
But this act of teamwork increases camaraderie. It also makes for a really good dinner.
|photo cred goes to tigerelephant, naturally|
Babies aren't invited.
Overstay your welcome. You plan a trip for Friday to Sunday. You wake up Sunday morning abnormally depressed because it's nearly time to leave. But oh! You're drinking a beer over there? I think I will too. The rest is history and the next thing you know you are crammed in a car at 5:30am Monday morning in order to get to work on time. But there's a good chance that, as you are riding in the back silently praying you don't die of claustrophobia, you won't even regret your decision to get way too drunk for a Sunday. A Sunday that involved probably way too much interpretive dancing to the tune of Chris Rene's "Young Homie." Because holy shit that was fun.
Blueberry Lemon Bundt Cake
2 2/3 cup flour
1 tbs. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 cup unsalted butter, room temp
1 3/4 cup sugar
4 large eggs, room temp
2 tsp. vanilla
1/2 cup buttermilk
Juice and zest of 1 lemon
2 pints blueberries
1 tbs. butter, softened
1 tbs. milk
1/8 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 cup powdered sugar
Preheat oven to 350.
Sift the flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda. Set aside.
Toss blueberries with a little flour to coat. Set aside.
Mix together butter and sugar until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes). Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Add the vanilla and lemon juice/zest and mix well.
With mixer on low, add about 1/3 of the flour mix, then 1/2 of the buttermilk alternatively, ending with the flour mix. Scrape down sides of bowl between additions. Do not overbeat.
Spoon a generous couple spoonfuls of batter into greased bundt pan. Gently fold blueberries into remaining batter and scrape into pan.
Bake 40-50 minutes, or until toothpick inserted near the middle of the cake comes out clean. Cool cake in pan for about 20 minutes, then turn onto a rack to cool completely.
Don't forget the glaze! Because no cake should ever be eaten without icing or frosting or glaze or straight peanut butter from the jar.
To make the glaze, cream butter, milk, salt and vanilla. Add powdered sugar and additional milk to desired consistency. Pour that sucker over the cake.