Tag Archives: margaritas

How I spent my President’s Day Weekend

Hello friends,

I’ll get back to the blog soon – promise!

How was your holiday weekend? While I, like seemingly a lot of people, am not celebrating #45, I did have an enjoyable President‘s Day Weekend.

I stuck a literal toe into the foot peel realm, using this one from Boscia. Yes, I am nervous about the gross-out potential in the coming week. No, I won’t be sharing pics on social media.

I grabbed margaritas and Mexican food with @full_of_moxie at a place called Fonda in the East Village.

margarita-fonda-20170218_205755_resized

Tamarind margarita – yum!

 

I sniffled like mad either from a cold or too much kitty time. Oops.

And now it’s time for that old Monday night past time: watching The Bachelor. What will Corinne do this time?!

 

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Tequila anyone?

Update: Arte Agave is happening Friday, June 10, 2016. Tickets (with my discount code ‘Jen’) are available here.


You know I have come to enjoy tequila. But not how.

Let’s just say it didn’t come naturally.

Until approximately five years ago, I avoided tequila completely. Why? My last experience with the spirit had come at the hand of evil, older sorority sisters. There was an initiation rite involving blindfolds, my hands tied behind my back, me on my knees and the kind of tequila college students can afford.

college

It was bad.

For years, I avoided tequila. One night, though, I was faced with a difficult choice. Continue reading

When is a hipster not a hipster?

While I was in San Francisco recently, my friend Carolyn invited me to tag along to her friends’ party in Napa.

Napa

I was a tiny bit nervous about fitting in. Surely people who live in Napa must be way cooler than me, right? At a minimum, they would know lots more about wine. Continue reading

Mexican weekend

In advance of a work trip to Mexico (again), I went for dinner with my friends Amanda and Adrienne. I figured I’d be home by 11 pm or so.

Spoiler: that didn’t happen.

Amanda arrived first and snagged a seat at the bar, texting me to say Mercadito is a “shoebox.” And she was right. To get to the bathroom, you will squeeze past the bar. But you’ll manage. You may even make a new friend.

What Mercadito lacks in size, it makes up for in flavor. And alcohol. And personality.

A sign

Continue reading