Civic Holiday is the best bit of summer, amiright? You have your sticky-weather wardrobe down, so your look is peak. And there is still a long stretch of summer like, at least 30 solid days of possibility, of potential hookups, of time with bae, of hours with fresh Tinder bait ahead.
Long story short: It’s time to up your drink game. Here’s how to crush it, from west to east.
Mountains, harbor, city and beach: Canada’s jewel on the Pacific offers the best nature has to offer. And day or night, there is no need to throw shade on the Van City patio scene.
You’ll want to be where the action is at in Gastown: for people-watching, for mountain vistas, for sea breezes, for the European city square. Two great bets here are Chill Winston and The Flying Pig (there are other locations of this local fave around town).
Gastown is hot because of its identity as a hub for new media companies, and comes complete with all the trimmings, like vintage shops, galleries, clubs, gastropubs and of course patios.
Best served with: Fish tacos with slaw and mango salsa.
Young and eligible, Calgary is thirsty. Of course, the city’s many cowboy and beer bars (not to mention mechanical broncos) are world-renowned. But sometimes you really want a proper drink, some tunes that slay and (TBH) some potential hookups to scope out. Or at the very least, hot people.
Hit Proof Cocktails and Curiosities on 1st Street for awesome drinks, tiny plates and no reservations or lineups ever. The secret sauce here is space to relax. Allowing only the correct ratio of buns to chairs, if things are crushed, staff will take your number and leave you free to explore, then summon you back when your cozy table is ready.
National is a Calgary institution that remains evergreen in its hip factor. There are four locations around town, each with its own vibe and fun gimmicks rock’n’bowl, DIY DJ vinyl nights, best all-day happy hour but it is the patio at the 8th Street location that really has us hooked.
Best served with: a Tiki umbrella on Industry Sundays on 8th.
Canada’s biggest city sees cocktail culture trends come and go and then come back again. And while there are great classic patios around town the Black Bull on Queen for bikers and sunburn; Bar Raval on College for artsy rubbernecking; the Pilot, a total classic on the rooftop at Yonge and Bloor the more exciting news is the little patios attached to bars in more next-wave hoods like Junction, Roncy, Leslieville and Chinatown.
An exciting new destination downtown is the Nueva Vista Social Club, a Cuban-inspired lounge in the sleek and chic DEQ Terrace at the Ritz-Carlton. It’s got everything: throbbing Latin beats, eats and classic rum cocktails, especially the mojito and Cuba Libre. Also worth a trip is the hidden gem Cold Tea in Kensington Market, with its concrete bunker of an interior courtyard.
Best served with: a muddler, for grinding up organic herbs. Of all kinds.
There is nowhere more full of FOMO in Canada than Montreal on a hot summer day. The path to amaze streets St. Laurent and St. Denis is well worn and timeless. But in the stifling summer, you will want to be in the cool, cobbled streets of the Vieux Ville.
For four levels of fun in the sun, check out Terrasses Bonsecours, a Miami-style outdoor tapas restaurant that turns into a nightclub when the sun goes down. Sangrias and punches are the big thing this summer.
Best served with: a hotel room in the Old Town to sleep it all off.
Canada’s East Coast is famous for its warm welcome and its embrace of the few months of sunshine and cheer, which peaks on the August long weekend.
The downtown bar scene is best seen from a patio somewhere like Argyle Bar & Grill, which is known for its awesome mojitos. Or if your crew is vegan or veg, you can’t beat The Foggy Goggle (also downtown on Argyle Street.) for great comfort-food options to soak up your celebration.
For an elegant setting right on the waterfront, head to The Bicycle Thief, where you’ll be treated to soul fulfillment, Italian style. There you’ll find the finest cocktails, cheese and charcuterie or a meal by the sparkling Atlantic.
Best served with: lobster, obvs.
6. Try this at-home bro!
Because you’ve mastered red rum punch, slayed the Cuba Libre and bent your blender on pina coladas. It is time to master the muddler.
Mint is at its peak across Canada, so get snipping from your container garden and crush some ice. Pro tip: A good home mixologist knows how to grab a bar towel and crush those cubes down to size with a hammer no ice crusher necessary. It’ll impress your guests, and it’s mess-free.
2 parts BACARD Limn
4 lime wedges
12 fresh mint leaves
4 lemon wedges
2 tbsp. simple syrup (or 4 tsp. sugar)
Sprig of fresh mint and wedge of lime to garnish
Muddle mint leaves and lime in a tall glass. Cover with simple syrup and fill glass with ice. Add BACARD Limn and club soda; stir well. Garnish glass with a lime wedge and sprig of mint.
The world is a crazy mishmash of diversity. We have different faiths, different politics, and above all, different crotches. In general, we have two kinds of crotches, but those two kinds are mystifying and perplexing to the ones not wielding them. And you may not think so now. You may be thinking “Man, I have been up in so many crotches in my day, I’m like a crotch Da Vinci” but let me assure you, that crotch still holds many a mystery that you never even imagined.
Ladies, are you familiar with balls or, as they’re known in science circles, deez nutz? They’re a pair of oversensitive little snowflakes that men carry around in their pastrami coin purses and, beyond a biological function, they’re mostly just decorative. Fun for teabagging, ridiculously capable of collecting sweat, and oddly musky after a day of playing sports or just sitting in a room with no AC. You’re likely aware of most of this from all the ball porn you ladies watch. But what you may not be aware of, and what you really have no reason to be aware of, is the fact that your average nut has a serious case of wanderlust. Sometimes, just sometimes, a ball will just up and vanish.
What do I mean vanish? I mean take the fuck off. Pack up their bindle stick and head out for a life on the road. And it’s only ever one at a time, as though your nuts had a heated argument and one forced the other to go spend the night at its parents’ house. So your sack will still be slouching there against your thigh like a drunk trying to stay on the dance floor, and one ball will be holed up in there like the Unabomber in his shack. The other one will be three fingers deep in your torso, exploring the nooks and crannies of whatever the fuck is equidistant between your dick and your butthole.
To the best of my knowledge, your balls will occasionally rise up like the disgruntled citizens of an unjust regime, but it’s generally for warmth. This isn’t that. This is like a lava lamp situation, with blorpy stuff just oozing about because it can, no real rhyme or reason behind it. The little vagrant will always return home in short order, no worse for the wear and tight lipped about what sights he may have seen. But know that sometimes, when you least expect it, there’s a nut that’s just gone walkabout like a little semen-producing Crocodile Dundee.
In technical terms, they call this a retractile testicle, which is a great name. Your cremaster muscle gets a little overactive, like how if you work out too hard and you’re super pumped, your biceps and triceps will just totally rage in a spastic fashion. Only this time, it’s in your bag, and your nut will just zip up like a monkey on a vine. It can happen due to anxiety or just some stimulation in that area. So nothing crazy or darkly magical, just some crazy ball roaming.
Ladies, you’ve met a boner before, right? And for you younger and/or chaste readers, you’ve read my terribly offensive articles before, right? So you’re probably at least on handshake terms with boners. You know where they live, their general habits, and their diet. I would even wager you heard in health class or from a guy on the bus that a boner can crop up at the weirdest times? For instance, when a dude’s jorts rub him the wrong way or he sees a canary melon and thinks of a boob. Ha ha, boners are the unpredictable scamps of the coital world. But did you have any idea how unpredictable they are?
Aside from the normal reason and the just-a-few houses down from normal reasons, there is a fun melange of nightmare reasons why boners occur. Obviously medication side effects can lead to erections, but so can spider bites, fear of being a sexual deviant, meal supplements, and comically tragic bicycle injuries. These scenarios all sound radically different, but they all have one factor that connects them: Near them, the boner lurks.
How does pain manage to dance with boners in people who don’t typically get off on pain? That’s one of the mysteries of science, but any number of uncomfortable feelings from anxiety to nervousness to just outright agony can and will give way to Mr. Blinky standing tall and trying to do his thing, even if the rest of your body is a quivering mass of discomfort.
In terms of injuries, it can be a matter as simple as a blood-flow problem — you damage a wang artery, the blood can’t flow the way it should, you end up saluting the flag every time you move. But when that’s not the case, the cause can sometimes be a mystery to medical science — your dick plays its cards close to the balls and doesn’t explain itself all that often.
Menstrual Pad Importance
As a man, there’s only so much I can do to help support and understand women. I don’t want to be a douche, and I don’t think most people want to, even if they succeed at it admirably. I want to do the best I can to try to understand everyone’s worldview, and as a white dude who grew up in a white neighborhood where people never really talked about politics, the outside world or anything particularly heavy at all, it’s a process. Part of this process is trying to wrap my head around pads, which is distinctly different from wrapping pads around my head. Is this world changing or deeply philosophical? Does it solve humanity’s problems or rise to the level of anything profound that helps better our species? Maybe not, but I don’t write articles to save the world. Sometimes, we just need to sit back and wonder about the mysteries of shit that are obvious to everyone else.
Most men, at some point, will be tasked with purchasing pads for someone in need. It happens. In the world of sitcoms, it’s a terribly embarrassing endeavor and you must sheepishly enter the aisle and pretend you’re shopping for something else and then look like a deer caught in the headlights when the cashier inevitably calls for a price check. On pads! For vaginas! Oh man, is your face red! THE BEER BACON MANLY MAN IS BUYING THE LADY OBJECTS. PLANT A SCARLET LETTER UPON HIS CHEST.
In real life, buying pads is like buying something that isn’t a pad. However, and this is key, while you were probably told exactly what kind to buy, if they don’t have what you’re looking for, if you forget, or if nothing was specified for some reason, you have no chance of choosing the right one. Pads are like the Grail at the end of Indiana Jones And The Last Crusade. There’s a ton of choices and if you choose poorly, expect to become a dusty skeleton in no time under the withering glare of the woman you’ve just disappointed.
In my mind, pads operate like deodorant or the Walmart underwear rack. Sure I see a lot of options, but at the end of the day, I can probably make due with anything that’s there. But holy shit, not so with pads. Despite your general knowledge of a woman’s flower and its botanical habit of sloughing off an internal uterine layer, not every pad can accommodate this for every woman. Wings may be necessary to anchor that slippery little shit in place. You also need to factor in absorbency based on flow, the shape of the pad, the fabric of the pad, and the general way it fits because you never want to try to fit a square peg in a round hole, especially if you have the wrong-sized pad wrapped around it.
There’s literally no way you can get the correct pad on a whim as a dude except for blind luck. You have to have instruction or you might as well be trying to figure out what your cat means when it turns its head and stares at you all shifty-like when you’re on the toilet.
It’s not that I or any man is necessarily dumb for not “getting” pads. It’s just that there’s no common ground to meet on. I can only conceive of, in the most basic way, the issues with trying to properly fit something on or near a body part I don’t have. I can’t even decide if “on” or “near” are the right words to use, that’s how unqualified I am to deal with this.
I didn’t want to make this article dark. I didn’t want to “go there,” as the hip kids say. But dammit, I’m going there. And you’re coming with me. Bring a lawn chair.
Surely we can all be adults when we discuss flatulence, or “floating air biscuits,” if you will. Who amongst us hasn’t gorged themselves on a hearty baked bean and cauliflower casserole laced with vegan ham and awoken the next morning feeling like a gremlin was trying to breakdance its way from our asshole? Farts are natural and beautiful in the way that any kind of fetid gas from one’s shit shooter is beautiful.
There is a thing I learned, though. A thing told to me by a woman who, upon learning the topic of this article, took a moment to stare off into space as she pondered the idea. After a brief period of silence, her expression became inspired and she eagerly said to me, “What about farts in your vagina?”
First, I hope that was the first time that sentence was ever uttered aloud. I get a kick out of feeling like I’ve heard or said something literally no one in mankind’s history has ever seen or heard. But second, I was briefly confused.
“Queefs?” I asked, as if it was the most natural follow up in a normal conversation. She shook her head.
“Gross, no. OK, sometimes, as a woman, when you fart it maybe goes forward instead of back? And it can sneak into your vagina.”
I stared as though I were Paul Atreides having just consumed the Water of Life and my mind was expanding beyond space and time. I imagined a stealthy fart creeping forth under the cover of night, holding up at the border of the ass cheeks until the Vaginal Guards had a shift change, then sneaking like a ninja across the Taint Barrier and backflipping into the safety of the vagina.
“What does it do once it gets in there?” I asked, enraptured. Her expression changed to one I’m all too familiar with. One that says “Please stop speaking.”
“What do you think it does? It’s not a DJ, it’s not having a party. It just gets stuck. You have to kind of shift and shimmy a bit to force it back out.”
I nodded. This was reasonable. Not reasonable, but understandable. A woman, biologically, has a terrible system of fart management set up down there. As a man, when one of my farts takes a wrong turn out of the gate, it just bubbles up under my ballsack and sits there like a frightened mouse until I peel the sack away from the thigh and release it back into the wild. But a woman has an entire mouse house. I had never imagined.
Briefly, I wondered if I’d ever been visiting the enchanted grotto when there was an unwanted guest in the pantry, but then shrugged it off. Best not to know, probably.
The proliferation of beer pong and craft beer may have you think that we’re living in one of the peak times to get drunk, but humans have been getting famously hammered for millennia. Like a frat house’s lawn after a kegger, history is littered with world changing events that were secretly powered by booze. The inaugural games of the Roman Coliseum, the drafting of the US Constitution and the Russian Revolution were all capped off by major parties that most attendees probably regretted in the morning.
Join Jack O’Brien and Cracked staffers Carmen Angelica, Alex Schmidt, Michael Swaim, plus comedian Blake Wexler for a retelling of history’s biggest moments you didn’t realize everyone was drunk for.
Get your tickets here:
A powerful storm system tearing through the Southeast killed a fifth person Monday after it flipped a mobile home in South Carolina, emergency officials announced.
The storm could still unleash tornadoes and powerful wind gusts Monday from parts of Georgia to the Carolinas, forecasters have warned.
In Whitmire, S.C., an hour’s drive northwest of Columbia, the storms flipped the mobile home multiple times, killing a man inside, Union County Sheriff David Taylor told Fox Carolina.
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Mayor Johnny Thomas told Fox News he and his wife were home watching TV when the strong storms caused this massive tree to fall and obliterate their home. (Fox News)
Johnny Thomas, the mayor of Glendora, Miss., which is about 140 miles north of Jackson, told Fox News heavy winds caused a massive tree to fall onto his home and, suddenly, his house went dark. Though he crawled out alive with minor injuries, his wife did not survive.
“Sitting here looking at TV my wife and I hear a loud wind and looked like it was instant just a loud wind, Thomas said. A few seconds later, he said, his wife was trapped under the fallen roof.
Bill Parker, the meteorologist-in-charge at the National Weather Service of Jackson said the weather began improving but flooding was still a concern.
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In Breaux Bridge, an EF-1 tornado flipped a trailer upside down, killing a sleeping mother and her 3-year-old daughter. A tricycle with yellow handles and purple wheels sits outside the wreckage Monday morning. (Fox News)
When you have an extraordinary meteorological event like we had last night that produces a lot of rainfall it leads to a hydrological event, Parker said on Monday, so now were looking at how our rivers are going to rise, how our lakes are going to rise based on that heavy amount of rainfall we received last night.
In Louisiana, a mother and her 3-year-old daughter were killed Sunday morning when a tornado flipped their mobile home off its foundation. The following morning, a Fisher-Price tricycle with yellow handles and purple wheels sat outside the wreckage. It was a visual reminder of just how quickly tornados can strike.
Francine Gotch, 38, and her daughter, Neville Alexander, were inside the trailer when the storm hit the rural community of Breaux Bridge, about 50 miles west of Baton Rouge, St. Martin Parish Sheriff’s Office Maj. Ginny Higgins said.
“It hit the trailer, flipped it and tore its side off,” Higgins said.
Alexander’s dad had gone to the grocery store just before the storm occurred and arrived back home to find Gotch and his daughter dead, witnesses told KLFY-TV.
Louisiana Gov. John Bel Edwards put the entire state on high alert and urged residents to stay off the roads. He told people that their cellphones should be charged and close by so they can receive urgent weather alerts through Monday.
“It is an extremely dangerous weather event,” he said.
In Mississippi, Gov. Phil Bryant confirmed the deaths of two people in the state.
Jacqueline Williams, 52, was in the process of running a newspaper delivery route when her car slid off a road into a creek in her hometown of Florence before dawn Monday, authorities said. She dialed 911 from the car as it went down, said Rankin County Coroner David Ruth.
Ruth said Williams was trying to relay her location to a dispatcher as the car settled into the swirling waters. “She was trying to tell the dispatcher where she was, and she could actually hear the sirens.”
The two lost contact, and Ruth said a swift-water recovery team later found Williams’ body in the creek outside the car.
In Jackson, Miss., about 60 people were evacuated to a nearby hotel because of rising flood waters. Local authorities used boats to transport people to dry land.
Another hard-hit area was Alexandria, La., where winds blew off the roof of a gas station and knocked out power to thousands, KALB-TV reported. Customers and storm employees sought shelter in a beer cooler.
Authorities are asking for residents to have a plan in place pick a room without windows or many doors, keep your cell phone charged and if you live in a mobile home try to find another place to stay during large storm systems.
Fire officials in the Texas village of Point Venture said several people witnessed an apparent funnel cloud there Sunday morning. Travis County Emergency Services District 1 Fire Chief Donnie Norman said there were several structures with severe damage.
“There was one home with pretty heavy damage. The roof was completely removed. There was one resident there at the time, but she received no major injuries,” Norman said.
A Texas state trooper reported seeing a suspected tornado touch down early Sunday morning near Center Point, Texas, about 55 miles northwest of San Antonio, Texas. National Weather Service meteorologist Yvette Benavides said there were no reports of major or structural damage.
Fox News’ Will Carr, Matt Finn, Willie James Inman and The Associated Press contributed to this report.
You know how there’s that one friend we know will sleep through a troll invasion? For us, that’d always been you. The survivor.
You’ve survived growing up with Fred and George. You’ve lived through heartbreaks and failures and humiliation and still managed to laugh. You’ve puked slugs and battled arachnophobia yet never shied away from a fight for your friends. You’ve worn your heart on the frayed sleeves of your uncle’s hand-me-down robe even when you had the emotional range of a teaspoon.
When we first met you on that train 20 years ago, grease stain on your nose and chocolate frogs in your overstuffed mouth, we knew you weren’t the chosen or the brightest one.
At best you were the bumbling awkward teenager. At worst a doppelganger of that cheesy English singer some Muggles claim to worship. Ed Sheeran or something. But then you taught us, it isn’t what’s inside you that matters, it’s what you choose to believe in.
You taught us that even when our books are second hand and our wands are tapped, we can open our homes and hearts to our friends. You taught us that bravery is a virtue all of us posses, that facing our fear is sometimes the only way through it, be it giant spiders or the occasional basilisks. You taught us we can unlearn our prejudices, accept as allies those we once hated, be it house elves or werewolves.
I’m sure you still let Hermione teach you how to swish and flick, with a proud grin on your face. I’m sure you visit your parents every weekend, sometimes Charlie drops by and gives you a meaningful wink. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.
And I’m sure; the clock with your face on one hand has since been at home. Safe, drunk on butter beer and a little in love.
It’s weird how we remember people at times. In bits and pieces. As if remembering them in entirety would mean accepting it’s been two decades since we’ve last seen each other. Some days I wonder how elated you’d be to visit this new world.
We have hair conditioners which smell like strawberries and beer now, and weaving flowers into your beard is considered a fashion trend. Often, I imagine you making a cross country trip on your motorbike, breeze ruffling your hair and those goggles making your eyes look humongous. You’d stop at every village on the way, let little girls weave your beard into bouquets while you told stories about that time you won a giant octopus with commitment issues from a stranger at a heavy metal concert.
We have it all, and yet we crave someone like you in our lives. Someone who can keep our secrets safe even if they have to go to prison for that, who can give people pigtails when they’re mean to his friends. Someone we can always approach for answers or giant hugs. Someone who remembers birthdays without Facebook reminders and always, always brings the cake with extra icing and atrociously spelled names scribbled on it.
While you were gone, we’ve somehow become stoic souls afraid to shed tears or go that extra mile to make someone we love, smile. Maybe we need to unlearn our burdens. Become people who can cry with abandon and care for their family even if others find nothing but flaws in them and want nothing more from life than a cabbage patch and lazy afternoons with their drooling dogs.
Maybe what we really want, is someone with the worst knock knock joke and the biggest of hearts.
3. Dear Luna,
You seem to have taken a lot with you when you left. For example, I don’t see any Blibbering Humdinger or the Crumple-Horned Snorkack around any more.
Coincidence? I think not.
You’ve apparently taken away our ability to be inspired by the mundane as well. Look at us now, crowding art exhibitions and breaking our backs attending every poetry event but still complaining about our lack of imagination in the end. We don’t lose our shoes anymore or read magazines upside down. In fact, we barely read.
And most importantly, we don’t believe. Not in magic or mistletoes infested with nargles that might just take a bite off our noses or that even after someone dies, they still exist in memories of their loved ones and behind the veil at the ministry of magic.
You’ve taken away our ability to stand out from the crowd, whether it was because of the quirkiest fashion sense topped with a butter beer cork necklace or the belief that everyone deserves kindness and sympathy. Even if it was a common but free house elf who died saving his friend, you made sure your eulogy guided his soul to the afterlife for free elves.
Whether it’s your quidditch commentary or your aura of pure serenity, we miss you in every aspect of our lives. And we keep hoping, someday we’ll run into you again, only you’ll be the woman with dreamy eyes selling aluminium foil hats at the crossing beyond eighth avenue (guaranteed to give you better dreams, you’d say between giggles).
And we’ll be the ones desperately wishing we could believe in the impossible again, and borrow the Quibbler from you every weekend.
I’ll let you in on a secret. All these Slytherin pickup lines that have become the rage nowadays, they were written for you.
I mean, sure, it must be really hard being a sulking and often sassy teenager, especially with the fairer sex swooning every time you even opened your mouth. We get your conundrum mate, we do.
But trust me, we’ve all been jealous of you at some point. Some of us still are. You’ve outshone the boy who lived on so many occasions even when he was clearly the protagonist of the story. And you’ve done so with your undeniable charm and confidence, although those locks of platinum blonde hair never hurt your appeal, just saying.
Of course, for the longest time people just saw the rough and unlikable side of you (not unlovable though, if you know what I mean). They were quick to stereotype you as the bad guy, what with the drawl and everything. Plus you were totally Harry’s second biggest enemy in Hogwarts, the biggest being his constant whining and complaining. But you outgrew that mould pretty fast, and boy did you take us all by surprise when you did.
When you bared your tortured soul to us, showed us having parents who are stuck on the wrong side of the deal with Voldemort is way worse than it sounds, we just wanted to put our arms around you and whisper words of comfort till you stopped trembling. In that moment when you were tasked with killing Dumbledore yet couldn’t bring yourself to it, we knew even the darkest hearts bear some goodness within them.
We might be guilty of cheering Hermione when she punched you across your face, but come on, you deserved it for being such a douche to her. That doesn’t mean we’re gonna stop with the swooning or writing steamy fanfics about you, anytime soon.
Just for the record, mate.
Looking for an excuse to buy new shoes? Turns out, wearing high heels can actually save you money… on your bar tab, that is.
My Place Café & Bar, a new venue located on the first floor of the Hilton Osaka hotel in Japan, is offering female customers a discount on their food and drink orders based on the height of their high heels, Sora News 24 reports.
To qualify for the promotion, heels must be at least five centimeters (two inches) tall. But the higher the heel, the greater the discount on the bars select dining options, craft beer, organic wine and cocktails.
Discounts start at 10 percent off your order, with each additional two centimeters of heel height receiving a better deal.
Heels from seven to nine centimeters get 15 percent off, nine to 11 centimeters 20 percent, 11 to 13 centimeters 25 percent and 13 to 15 centimeters 30 percent. Anyone wearing heels above 15 centimeters (almost 6 inches!) will 40 percent off their bill.
My Place is running its High Heels Ladies Night Discount on Thursday nights starting June 15 and it lasts from 6 p.m. and 11:30 p.m.
My Place isnt the only bar offering unusual promotions to attract customers.
Mong Bar in Ko Lanta, Thailand, offers visitors free shots if theyre willing to partake in an extreme version of the famous knife game. The popularity of this deal proves people will go to just about any length to save money on alcohol.
When I was 17, my dad left my mom for the flight attendant on his corporate jet.
The only part worse than my own heartbreak was watching my beautiful mom hurt so deeply.
I worried she would never heal or open herself up to love again.
Now, four years later, shes been in one serious relationship and casually dated several men.
Watching your 50-something-year-old mom date is an experience unlike anything else.
Here are ninedifferent roles you’ll fill to express your complicated emotions:
1. Nosy Best Friend
When you first hear that your mom met someone potentially exciting, you want to know everything about this guy.
Howd you meet? Why is he single?
How fit is he? Is heskinny runner typeor stocky lifter type?
Your relationship evolves from mother-daughter to friend-friend.
Getting all the dirty detailshelps distract you from your own dating drought.
2. Fashion Guru
When it comes time for your mom to go out to dinner with her new man, youll know just what color top she should wear, how low the neckline should be and what shoes to choose.
Its a good thing she has you, or shed be going out on the town looking like a “What Not To Wear”contestant waiting for an intervention.
3. Texting Wizard
Not only are you her personal stylist, but youre also her modern technology coach.
They didnt have cell phones when your mom was last in the dating game back in college, so shes not sure how this texting thing works.
You help her decode the number of exclamation points he uses, and you keep her from replying with paragraphs or overzealousemojis.
There should be absolutely no red hearts used until at least date number five.
Cmon, mom. Get with it.
3. Jealous SO
Youre genuinely happy that your mom is hitting it off with her new guy, but you start to become jealous of how much time shes spending with him.
Share your real significant other with a guy who takes her out for “Star Wars” and craft beer? Hell to the no.
You feel more single than ever now that your mom is taken.
4. One-Woman Jury
When you finally meet your moms new man, youll examine him with your harshest eye.
Sure, hes good-looking and does a pretty funny Donald Trump impression, but youre skeptical that hes good enough for your incredible mom.
He eats pizza with a fork and knife?
He doesnt like The Beatles?
How can you say those arent deal breakers?This guy should be behind bars!
5. Mama Grizzly
Youre not just judgmental; youre also protective.
After seeing what your dad did to your mom, you dont want anything like that happening again.
Your hairs prick at the slightest red flags, like an angry tone in his voice or a time he should have apologized and didnt.
If you get the feeling he isnt treating her right, youre not afraid to showyour teeth and claws.
6. Ice Cream Scooper
If your moms new relationship goes south, youre there to scoop out ice cream and cry together over “The Notebook.”
And if it goes well, youre there to scoop ice cream and swoon together over “The Notebook.”
Either way, youre the one with the Ben & Jerrys and the Ryan Gosling film.
7. Dad Disser
At some point or another, you wont be able to help comparing your moms new guy to your dad.
You know that your dad left and pulled a total assh*le move, but you still remember all the good times your family had together, like hiking the Grand Canyon and decorating Christmas cookies.
For f*cks sake, why couldnt yourdad have just stayed?
If he would have justappreciated how amazing, gorgeous and intelligent she was, your mom wouldnt be in this sh*tty dating pool again.
Why did he have to run off with the fake blonde skank who never graduated from college?
F*ck him, and f*ck the skank, too.
So, your mom’s new guy turned out not to be the right guy?
Youre there to pick her up, remind her how incredible and stunning she truly is and tell her how anyone would be luckyto have her in his life.
Youll help her get her mojo back, and you’ll remind her how much more to life there is than men.
Who runs the world?Girls!
9. Proud Daughter
Of all the roles youll take on, the most important is still that of a daughter.
Your mom is a real-life example of a strong, independent woman who will not compromise her beliefs or settle for someone who treats her with less respect than she deserves.
This gives you the confidence in yourself to hold out for someone who recognizes you for the amazing human that you are.
She deserves the best, and so do you.
Watching your grown mom date is crazy for sure, but if youre okay wearing a lot of hats, the experience can be a fun one.
If she marries again, youll be there as her maid of honor.
And if not, youll be partners in crime and help each other navigate the modern dating world.
So, dont freak out if your mom mentions a new guy.
Be happy that shes moving forward.
Its time you do the same.
Your bond is strong enough that no man can threaten it.
The big moment, The One Where You Ask Her to Marry You episode of your life story, is getting closer.
Youre dying to propose, but in all your eagerness, youve forgotten something vital to your SOshappiness: What kind of ring does she want?
A family heirloom may be a beautiful tradition, but does it truly fit her? Or does she want a ringshe can call her own?
If she wants a new ring picked out just for her, what kind of style does she want? She it be big and flashy, or classic and demure? And how much money does she expect you to spend on it?
Despite your fear shell reject your proposal if you dont get the ring just right, you dont have to buy a diamond the size of Jupiter to convince her to say yes.
Give both of yourselves more credit, and find the perfect engagement ringfor your future fiance by remembering these three things:
Some women want to keep it simple.
When you get down on one knee, you ideally want your question to result in a kiss that screams YES! The ring you get plays a part in that decision (albeit its most likely a small part).
Many engagement rings aretoo decorative for certain tastes. The stone may be too big or have too much embellishment. You dont want her ring to be too uncomfortable to wear. (She is going to be wearing it for awhile, after all.)
So, take a look at thekinds of rings she wears in her everyday life. Choose something that will stand out, but will still fit with her personality.
Maybe she shouldve been born when art nouveau was at its height, and her desired ring fits into that era. A simple band inscribed with a thoughtful message, symbol or your intertwining initials may be perfectfor her.
The ring should speak specifically to your bond, so buy one that you feel personifies your relationship.
Shes a unique gem.
Diamonds may not be your girls best friend, and the talk about the rarity of diamonds is due to an old marketing campaign.
In 1947, copy writer Francis Gerety coined A diamond is forever for a beer ad and jumpstarted the diamond craze, which has now become a time-honored tradition.
If she prefers a diamond, give her a diamond. Theres nothing wrong with that.
If you want to break tradition, give her a gemstone that has unique meaning, expresses what she means to you and/orsymbolizes your union.
Intertwine your birthstones on a ring. Venus, the goddess of love, was born from the foam of the sea. So, your choice may be a pearl for her.
The Garnet is a stone representing emotional strength. Has she weathered many storms and inspired you? Choose a unique gemstone that speaks to herstrength.
Theres a rarity to her.
Theres something about the way she laughs, moves and brightens up a room. She has a way of transforming the atmosphere around her.
You could say that about any woman, really, but what makes your fianceso rare and unique isnt a clich. Youve felt it. You know.
When considering an engagement ring, many people default to gold without realizing theres a more affordable and rare metal out there: platinum.
Platinumis 30 times more rare than gold. It ages better, too, developing a rich patina finish from a natural white.
You can even make it an heirloom, thanks to its lasting quality. This metal can be passed down for generations to your sons or daughters, as the dense metal is resistant to scratch and corrosion.
Honor heruniqueness and individuality by choosing a band thats as strong and everlasting as she is.
Every man should ask what kind of ring his girlfriend wants before he pops the question.
Hold your horses before you propose, and hold her hand, instead. Take a sneak peek at the kinds of rings she wears. Ask her what her dream ring would be (if you dare). Its OK to feel nervous.
You dont have to spend a boatload of money on a big diamond to impress her, unless thats what she wants.
Choose an engagement ring that honors the unique and beautiful gem she is, and your lifes journey as a couple will start with the mostamazing proposal you could ever imagine.
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Everyone thinks about booze when it comes time to plan a New Year’s Eve party — which is important, we don’t deny that — but don’t forget about the food. An end-of-the-year bash doesn’t require intensive recipes nor big meals, but a few solid apps and hors d’oeuvres will make sure that your guests are able to ring in the new year with good cheer (and a happy belly).
Crostinis are always a good choice. One can never go wrong with anything bacon wrapped. Throw in something featuring melted cheese and you’ve got yourself a solid line up. We have those kinds of recipes for you right here. Happy New Year, folks!
A cat that went missing four years ago has turned up 13 miles away from his owner’s home.
The tabby, named Roman, disappeared in April 2012, and despite appeals in newspapers and on social media, was never found.
His owners, the Thompson family, gave up hope of ever seeing him again, and went on to move house.
They were surprised to get a call from Birmingham’s PDSA Hospital saying they had him in their care, four years on.
Owner Rachel Thompson said: “I was in complete shock when they told me. I told them ‘it can’t be him, he’s dead’.
“We raced to PDSA and sure enough it was him.”
Roman went missing from his owners’ home in Kings Heath, and was last spotted in a nearby pub beer garden where he was a regular visitor.
Hit by car
After he failed to turn up again, Rachel and her husband Liam feared the worst and they moved to another house in the same area.
Senior vet Rebecca Thorne, from the hospital in Aston, said Roman was brought in by a man who had befriended him over the past few months.
“The gentleman brought Roman in to us as a neighbour had seen him get hit by a car,” she said. “We carried out x-rays which showed he had no major injuries but kept him in overnight to monitor him.
“After scanning his microchip and checking his details we discovered he was missing.
“Thanks to the information we were then able to get in touch with his owner.”
Giant oak wine barrels sit above the bar of the Cittie of Yorke in Holborn – which is more reminiscent of a great hall in a Tudor mansion than than a traditional pub.
The jury is out as to whether or not the massive casks were ever used as genuine storage vessels – or simply part of the inn’s Tudor makeover in the 1920s.
The Cittie of Yorke features in a new book, Great Pubs of London, written by George Dailey and featuring photographs taken by his daughter Charlie.
The book examines the histories of 22 pubs. Take a look at some of them here.
The Nags Head
On a quiet street in the heart of one of London’s most exclusive neighbourhoods, the Nags Head’s first customers would have been staff from the mansions on neighbouring streets.
“The likelihood is that, because of its location, most of the early landlords were connected with horses, carriages and stabling,” writes Dailey.
The pub’s main bar – with its 150-year-old Chelsea pottery beer engine pump handles – is unusually low, with short stools in front.
This is because floor of the bar servery is positioned midway between the main bar and the lower back bar to the rear, which was once possibly a stables or courtyard.
The Nags Head is also filled with dozens of toys, penny arcade machines, posters and photos – and the current landlord’s collection of military memorabilia.
The Blackfriar – built in 1875 – stands on the site of London’s Dominican friary in the parish of Ludgate.
The Dominicans were known as “the blackfriars” because of the black cloaks they used to wear.
In the early 20th Century the pub’s interior was remodelled by the sculptor Henry Poole, who created a vision straight out of medieval England.
There is a sumptuous mosaic ceiling, with marble columns and copper clay friezes.
And black-cloaked friars can be spotted just about everywhere – all appearing to enjoy sins of overindulgence.
The French House
The interior of the French House looks more like a Parisian backstreet bar, than a traditional London pub – and it remains a favourite of artists, writers, actors and photographers,
George Dailey describes the inside as “a little tired, faintly bohemian – but with unmistakeable Gallic charm”.
For most of the 20th Century the pub’s official name was The York Minster.
Its metamorphosis into “The French” started in 1914, when its German owner sold the business to a Belgian – but “The French sounds more romantic”, says Dailey.
The Prospect of Whitby
The inn on this site was first built in 1520 – on the north bank of the Thames to the east of the City.
It would have been a timber structure surrounded by gardens and marshland. It was rebuilt in the 18th Century.
Regular visitors included the writers Charles Dickens, Samuel Pepys and Samuel Johnson – and the venue was known for its bare-knuckle and cock fights.
It’s thought the pub’s strange name derives from the fact that a collier – a ship carrying coal – from Whitby in North Yorkshire used to moor regularly beside the pub.
Initially it was just called The Prospect.
The George Inn
For people heading to London from the south, Borough High Street in Southwark was a terminus.
The walled City of London was only a bridge away, but it was closed at night.
Latecomers were forced to take rooms at one of the local inns – including The George.
The George became a home for political debate and gossip – and Shakespeare’s plays were often performed in its courtyard.
According to Dailey: “There is no pub in London that can boast of having a completely untouched 18th Century interior – but The George comes very close.”
The current building, which backs on to the shore of the Thames, dates from 1720 – built on the site of a previous pub, which burned down in 1710.
In 1865, Charles Dickens is thought to have written about The Grapes – or The Bunch of Grapes, as it was then known.
He describes “a tavern of dropsical appearance… long settled down into a state of hale infirmity. It had outlasted many a sprucer public house, indeed the whole house impended over the water but seemed to have got into the condition of a faint-hearted diver, who has paused so long on the brink, that he will never go in at all.”
The Ship Tavern
Although rebuilt in the 1920s, there has probably been a pub on the site of The Ship since the mid-16th Century – and in its early incarnation it was known as a haven for persecuted Catholics.
The pub is now just behind a busy underground station, but initially it would have overlooked a rough area of pasture land – Lincoln’s Inn Fields.
This narrow pub on the Thames is one of the best places to watch the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race – if you can find a space to stand.
Anecdotal evidence suggests the Dove was actually a licensed pub as early as 1730 – when the green fields and orchards of 18th Century Hammersmith offered tranquillity away from the City of London, which was then only a two-hour coach ride away.
With all the hallmarks of a village inn, The Flask is very close to Highgate Cemetery – the burial place of Karl Marx.
It also claims to have two ghosts – a Spanish barmaid who took her life when the landlord rejected her amorous advances, and a hapless man dressed as a cavalier who crosses the main bar and disappears into a wall.
The poets Byron, Shelley, Keats and Coleridge were regular drinkers here. Coleridge believed the clean air on the hill at Highgate was beneficial in his attempts to cure himself of opium addiction.
The Lamb and Flag
When the building now known as The Lamb and Flag was built, in the mid-17th Century, Covent Garden was a relatively new urban area – a smart and desirable address.
But a century later, the gentry had moved away and the area had become a red-light district. Records from 1772 show that The Lamb and Flag – or Coopers Arms as it was known then – was trading successfully, but the clientele was drawn from the lower levels of society.
A century later, and the venue was a popular location for unlicensed bare-knuckle fights.
All images copyright Charlie Dailey.
Great Pubs of London by George Dailey is published by Prestel.