Foolproof Sangria

You should make this. And then when you have thirty minutes before you’re due to leave the warehouse, you should make some more.

Sangria. The party starter. The dancer in the dark.

Makes about 4 litres which serves four, or maybe more, depending on the degree of alcoholism.

You will need:
3 bottles of dodgy cheap red wine (something heavy) chilled
500ml Lemonade
1 L orange juice
350ml Brandy
Fruit (optional)

Sugar syrup:
2 cups sugar
2 cups water
3 cinnamon sticks

Get a saucepan. Place the sugar, water and cinnamon sticks in said saucepan. Place on high heat (stovetop or fire, probably not microwave) and bring to a rolling boil. Leave until you almost forget about it but then the smell of cinnamon hits you like an alligator called Steve. Allow to cool.

Get a punch bowl. Or buy/steal one. A worthy investment. Mix all remaining ingredients in said bowl. Add ice if required. Add fruit if opted for. Serve in those wine glasses you got given for your 21st.

Best consumed sitting on a rooftop. Insert hazy memories here. And then thank me later.
k

Cinematic #1

The Black Swan.

An abysmally ridiculous story of aggressive anorexic people growing feathers.

-4/10 feathers.

Bookclub #1

Welcome to the first installment of bookclub! Here we review books in one sentence or less. And then give a score (example below).

The Bronze Horseman trilogy, by Paullina Simons.

Alexander should have died from lung cancer. 6/10 cigarettes.
h

Championship Point

In true holiday style, we’ve both been too lazy to update Alopecia much. There's plenty of drafts waiting to go but I’d rather eat leftover ham. And since we’re the only ones who read this, it doesn’t really matter.

But.. The thing we’re most excited about, which always kicks off the year has arrived. Actually, it's half over. Which makes this post still relevant. It's been a long countdown since Zeus put a stop to our final festivities last time. We’re experts now. The masters of all situations. Savvy organisers. Preparation ninja’s.

It's time. So we might take this opportunity to have a little talk to ourselves and raise a few key points from past experiences. For instance:

- You are NOT hotter than Brooklyn Decker. Clearly. Just because she's a few seats away and you've downed a bottle of vodka does not give you the right to update your Facebook status saying you are better looking than her. She is a swimsuit model and you eat too many burgers. You both have your place in the world.

- RL Arena foyer is not a holding ground for idiots who hit on 17 year old volunteers while their amigo trains it home to get more vodka. There's no need.

- Sitting next to the Croatian and Czech fans will always make your day more interesting. It is also a guaranteed way to get escorted out. Fun.

- Swiss fans are super gay. And deserve to be mocked. Some Swiss players even 'quit' their families to focus on their tennis. If only it were that easy.

- Apparently it is the only day of the year you are allowed to wear a backpack. I beg to differ. And will not carry it.

- The shit rule of reserving seats for a certain amount of change of ends is just that. A shit rule. And if you actually get all upset about it etc etc, we will abuse you behind your back.

- Shirt changes are definite highlights. But it's like a goal in soccer. Guaranteed to miss it.

- Fernando Verdasco will never love you. Turns out he actually doesn't even know you're alive. Who knew?!

Remember the above as we take on the world and try to rule the game of life. I try my best, no?

Game, Set, Match.

Cause Or Cure?

Cause: a person or thing that acts, happens, or exists in such a way that some specific thing happens as a result; the producer of an effect.

Cure: a means of healing or restoring to health; remedy.

And that, my friends, is the real circle of life.

9 Days In

Yeah yeah... New Year's has come and gone. And whatever. Alopecia was out in full force. I don't really remember the few days I celebrated, but something tells me I had one of the greatest times ever. The videos don't lie. Or they wouldn't if we weren't too scared to watch them.

The proof is in the pudding though as I came home with severe skateboarding injuries. And hey, good to see my klepto skills were still up to scratch as I also came home with a 3m long stuffed crocodile. His name is Steve. Obviously.

Welcome to 2011. May it shit on 75% of last year.