Feelin' hot hot HOT...

and a few more cocktails...

always a winner.





After several recipe alterations and a name change, this still kind of tasted like wee!





Tasted better than our faces suggest...





"If you see a faded sign on the side of the road.."

Dear Jerry Falwell,

You are dead.

Regards,

Emma Lewis.

The future.

I’m twenty five years old, I’ve spent nearly eight years at university and I’m still not really sure what I want to be when I grow up.

This is something that I think about all the time. However, instead of making any big decisions, I just did an Honours year studying fossil conifers. Then two years looking down a microscope at leaves for my Masters thesis. I’m even eyeing off potential PhD projects involving exotic field trips (duration one week) and three years of sequencing plant DNA and data analysis (duration three years minus one week).

As you may have guessed from my recent past, I think that time wondering about possible careers is best spent pursuing an academic career in a narrow field with few jobs and little prospects. You wouldn’t want a job at the end of nearly a decade of study, would you? I just figured that I may as well learn how to use an electron microscope and get an extra degree whist weighing up my options. Don’t get me wrong – I loved the projects I’ve done and wouldn’t swap the experiences I’ve had in the lab for anything. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – my life is a fantasy camp. The thought of leaving the lab and saying goodbye to the endless laughter, joy rides in mining trucks and weekly industrial accident cover-ups makes me want to be a plant scientician forever. Unfortunately, I still just don’t know if academia is the life for me. So as my project nears completion, I am forced to decide what to do next with my life.

The following list represents the things I’m not willing to do for any amount of money:

Work in a discount variety store of any description
Work in a shitty suburban cinema, even if I was the manager and making more money than Donald Trump
Watch more than three consecutive minutes of Medium or CSI
Eat own poo

Conversely, here is a list of things I love to do and will gladly engage in for cash:

Write abusive letters to the editor of the Herald Sun about Tony Abbott being a complete cockchop who can shove his Christian family ideals right up his Uranus
Listen to talkback radio just to hear Beryl from North Balwyn’s opinion on “that Michelle Colby”
Watch the entire back catalogue of Prisoner on DVD
Photoshop myself into photos of The Highwaymen

Unfortunately, not many employment opportunities come with the above selection criteria.

So what am I to do with myself?

How about run off overseas for two months with no money and only one legitimate reason for being there in the first place? So I’m off to Chicago in July for a botany conference, then flying on to London to find myself* in Europe for a little while. I guess I’ll just finish my thesis and choose a career when I get back.

Haaaaaa!


*possibly eat own poo

More cocktails...

The long islands went down very well before dinner.






The K. dix will put hair on your chest.






No dinner party in 1986 was complete without one.






Is 4.51PM too early for one of these?

Welcome to cocktail week!

To celebrate New Years Eve last year, we of The Family had a 48 hour cocktail party at Lake Bunga. After compiling a short list of twenty seven cocktails...


.. and picking up a few different things...


...we were able to enjoy a very enchanting couple of evenings.

This week I will be posting each cocktail's recipe and serving suggestions modelled for you by Emily, Kyatt, David and myself.





The mocha mint was delicious, if not the colour of rancid bilge water!





This was pretty good too if my memory serves me correctly, and clearly the colour of lovely.





Delicious - and so was the drink.

Yooohoooo...

This looks like it could be interesting... kind of like a Melbourne version of The Sartorialist but more trashy and less serious Manhattany.

Meanwhile, my life consists of mostly



and not nearly enough time painting myself orange with policemen who look like burns victims



or vacant smiling into the middle distance in awkwardly staged photos with my chums on Saturday nights



Lou really wins the award for least convincing smile in this photo with this one.



Wow.