The Sangre Sling

Red Pill/Red Cocktail, Whatever.

Ok, let me first update you on my triathlon training. So far, I’ve started slowwwwly running again, got my ID all ready to get back in the pool, and I went bike shopping. Just the idea of shopping for a bicycle put me in a fit of near-hysterics. “what if I fail?” “What if I fall off and die?” “This is in Catalina, California. THERE ARE PROBABLY CLIFFS OF INSANITY.” My family has a bad history of falling off high shit and NOT RECOVERING. But!! But…tri suits are so fun. They’re not particularly sexy or anything, but they make me feel a little bit Trinity-badass.

“Hey, look at me in my tight, high-neckline, neoprene tank top. Don’t I look like I could totally take you down right now? One-handed? While drunk? Or eating scads of popcorn?!” Ok, maybe not those last two. When I’m drunk eating, I mostly just want to cry alone.

I’m so alone. I like Cheetos.

The shorts, on the other hand, make me feel very much like a pre-conservative Lisa Turtle.

I can totally do “the sprain.” Fuck you, Arya Stark.

I have not actually attempted to ride a bicycle, yet. Baby steps. Maybe immersion therapy. I could hang my bike above my bed at night. I could wear a helmet while I cook dinner. I could google images of hot triathlon men.

OMG!! IT’S JAMES MARSDEN! PRINCE CHARMING DOES TRIATHLONS!

I know that focus is insanely important, as are sets of goals. Small, short-term goals (buy the fucking bicycle, Bowen!!) Mid-range, slightly larger goals: perhaps not riding the PCH, but maybe the Brooklyn Bridge. Long-term, big-fucking goals: do the mother-fucking triathlon. Celebrate with ale and wine.

I have promised myself if I complete this tri, I can get another tattoo. Of what? Who the f knows. Nothing sporty. I may love to work out, and I may have done said tri, but I don’t want a fish riding a bicycle or some such nonsense. Although, a fish riding a bicycle would be sort of boss.

Apparently, it’s been done.

I now have a training plan in place, partners with which to train, Trinity badassuit, and gumption. Now? Now I just need to cojones to follow-through. I will also need a truckload of Motrin and gin, because I know I’m going to faceplant at least 17 times.

ON TO THE BOOZE.

Are you in the world’s best bookclub, We Ran, We Read, We Rummed? It’s headed up by myself and Amy, and it’s a lively group of book lovers who also want to stay fit, and less-sober. This month we’re reading Etiquette & Espionage by Gail Carriger. It’s a YA steampunk novel with a lot of heart, and a fun plot. BECAUSE it’s both steampunk AND young adult, I decided to do a take on a Victorian-era cocktail, and give it a youthful twist. It’s named for a theme of the book, which is, vampirism.

The Sangre Sling

The Sangre Sling

The Sangre Sling

by Cat Bowen

Prep Time: 10 minutes

Cook Time: overnight

Keywords: beverage

Ingredients (2 cocktails)

  • 3 oz Hendrick’s gin
  • 12-15 pitted cherries
  • 1 tablespoon sugar
  • 1 oz vodka
  • 2 oz seltzer
  • cherry pop rocks
  • lemon slice

Instructions

in a microwave safe bowl/mug

add in sugar and cherries

microwave 45 seconds

let cool

add vodka

let sit overnight in fridge

in a shaker, shake cherry mixture and gin

rub lemon wedge around edge of glass, roll in pop rocks

pour into two martini glasses

top with seltzer

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6 comments on “Red Pill/Red Cocktail, Whatever.

  1. When are you buying the bike? MAKE A PLAN!

    I want to be back in Tri shape by early June. That means new feet and new ass. Stupid kidlet broke my butt. (Maybe just a new bike seat.)

    I also want that cocktail now. What’s up with “refrigerate overnight?” INSTANT GRATIFICATION!

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