I've got a few weekend tradations, one of them is drunk dialing. Drunk dialing is a true artform. It's got a basic structure, but upon this framework the dialer is provided the opportunity to express themselves.

There's only one rule of drunkdialing:
Don't dial unless you're happy drunk. If you're depressed or angry drunk, not only are you a shitty wingman, but you've got no business drunkdialing.

My personal style of drunk dialing is a little more nuanced, I like to think. Usually, I dial long distance. This makes it more of an event, becuase you're calling a friend that you probably don't see that often. Sometimes I'll dial family too, because the family that calls you drunk off their face at two am is the family that loves you. But most of the time I dial non-family folks. Like Jenelle.

Another thing I stick to is weekends. Although there's something to the weeknight drunkdial, it kind of makes you look like a soak if you're not on vacation. Plus, you can be pretty sure that if you drunk dial someone on Saturday night, they're probably not going to be too irritated with you since they don't have to work in the morning.

The length of the conversation is up to you. I tend to talk a long time, mostly because I'm drunk, but also because I'm just a windbag in general. If no one answers, I usually feel obligated to weave an extremely loud, obscenity laced screed that usually climaxes with an insuation that the callee's mother is a loose woman.

The other of my weekend traditions is cooking. Aside from the obvious benefits of cooking (having something to eat, thusly avoiding death by starvation), it's a great way to spend some time with people. With the amount of spare time in the weekends, it also affords one the opportunity to make a stock of leftovers from which to choose for weekday lunches.

This weekend, it's fried chicken. In the South, fried chicken is serious business; so it takes a little time to prepare. I just put it in the fridge for it's buttermilk soak. I have no idea why pepole do that, my grandmother showed it to me so I just do it. well, sort of. I've mutilated her recipe a little by adding hot sauce to the soak; but hey, that's progress for ya.

After soaking, it gets seasoned heavily with a blend of spices, coated lightly in flour, and fried in Crisco. Grandma always said that frying chicken in anything other than shortening was just plain old Yankee bullshit.

After frying, the peices are cooled and served. Grandma also said that eating fried chicken while it's still hot from the fryer is plain old corporate bullshit that KFC came up with to save money. I think it's just as fine either way, but it seems pointless to argue with a former Screven County Women's Baseball League pitcher who's holding ten pounds of cast iron kitchenware in her hands.

Why post about fried chicken and drunk dialing in the same post? Because absolutely nothing soothes a hangover like great fried chicken.