Obviously, the best way to make the most of these last few days of summer is to leave work early on a beautiful 85 degree day, make a pitcher of lemon drops, slather on some sunblock and sit on your patio in your bra (What? It actually covers more than my swimsuit top does, incidentally.) and sunglasses reading a book.

Hence, A Recipe for the End of Summer: The Lemon Drop

The first thing you need for a fresh Lemon Drop is real lemons. I only make this recipe when I have big attractive lemons from my parents house in California, about 5 or 6. From my experience, that will give you approximately a cup of lemon juice which I squeeze directly into my quart sized measuring cup to facilitate easy and precise mixology. The ratio for this drink is 2:2:1 lemon juice, vodka and triple sec, then sugar to taste. Ergo, one cup of lemon juice means a cup of vodka and half a cup triple sec. Add the sugar about a quarter cup at a time, stirring thoroughly and tasting after each addition, remembering that you will be drinking out of a sugared glass, so you want the drink to be slightly tart still. When you've reached desirable sweetness, rim your glass by pouring sugar onto a coffee saucer, moistening the edge of your glass and placing it firmly into the sugar. My favorite way to drink these are out of a pint glass over several cubes of ice.

Additionally, with August 2008 rapidly approaching its close, I feel like I can definitively state my most recent 5 Years of Summer Jams.

2004: Ratatat - Seventeen Years

2005: Gorillaz - Dare

2006: Lily Allen - Smile

2007: Justice - D.A.N.C.E.

2008: Little Jackie - The World Should Revolve Around Me

Once upon a time, three months ago, I was under the impression that there was no way for me to love the visual imagery associated with Feist's "1, 2, 3, 4" any more than I already did. I mean, the video. Rainbow sequins? Choreographed goofy dancing? Magical. It's like she made that up in my favorite dream.

But then, oh then, last spring Feist visited the Colbert Report and not only made me squeal by interacting with total crush Stephen Colbert, but gifted him his own sequined jumpsuit before performing, and that miraculous image has been happily burned into my brain. And I thought: "Surely, this moment in time is the happiest that this lovely song will ever make me."

And lovely universe, sometimes you like to show me how very very wrong I can be about things, because on Monday as I was clicking around on the internets, I found this:

And if Leslie Feist bopping around with monsters and penguins and chickens in sunglasses isn't the greatest thing to ever happen ever, then, well, I guess I better work on getting out more.

Seeing as I wasn't present in the courtroom, I don't have much to add about the R. Kelly trial and acquittal that isn't presented more accurately and cleverly than this excellent article from Slate, except to say that sexual abuse of 13 year old girls aside, I'm mostly disappointed that we won't be getting any Trapped in the Closet updates prison-style.

I was already getting ready to write my post about how The Midnight Organ Fight is my favorite album of the first half of 2008 and a strong contender for the entire year before I did some clicking around on the internets and realized that the band is made up of Scottish brothers Scott and Grant. It is well documented that there are few things I love more than sibling bands. (A short list of the precious few things I hold above sibling bands are fresh lilacs, seasonal beer, cute flats and chocolate cake.)

As preface, two short things:

1. Last night I watched Across the Universe, which I did not think was a good movie. I get it, it was an intertwining of personal and generational experience, wrapped up in iconic blah blah blah, but it doesn't matter because it was straight up not interesting or pleasurable to watch. I loved the music though. I wish I would have had it on in the background while I was doing something that averted my eyes elsewhere, because I think then I wouldn't have been so annoyed with the whole thing.

2. After a 6 year hiatus, I have started to watch American Idol again. The only reason I have rekindled my relationship with this show on a trial basis is that thanks to my new DVR subscription, I can record the Tuesday night show and watch it free of all the infuriating product placement, sappy banter and boring backstory videos of the contestants' stupid families and hometowns. No one will ever be as charming and likable as Kelly Clarkson, so they should all stop trying and just sing already.

Now, as I said, I did not like Across the Universe. However, I watched the film shortly after watching two blessedly truncated episodes of American Idol where the contestants sang Beatles songs. The first episode was ok, with some decent performances, but the second week of Beatles songs was a hot hot mess with nary a passable moment to justify the show's existence. And maybe it wasn't fair to make those idiots pick two Beatles songs in a row to not butcher, but I refuse to believe that in the vast discography of songs written by Lennon, Harrison and McCartney, that it is really that hard to pick a song which is at least in your range.

And then my contempt for these mediocre Idol contestants increases with a viewing of Across the Universe, where almost every single song sounds fresh and new and exciting. And the actual film was a steaming-hot-pile-of-garbage-pie, but the actors were excellent vocalists and managed to sing those Beatles songs in different styles and arrangements without ruining Eight Days a Week.

The devil's advocate might argue that it's not fair to compare professional actors to the fount of America's best undiscovered and untapped diamonds in the rough, but the biggest scandal surrounding this season is that many of these contestants really are neither undiscovered or unvetted. Carly and Kristy Lee and one or two of those boys all had record deals and screwed the pooch with that, just like they did two weeks of Beatles songs. And I'm not arguing that I think that previous music industry experience should disqualify them from being on American Idol, I just think that it is a testament to how absolutely irrelevant to actual musical achievement American Idol is that it would give us this pool of failed mediocrity and try and pass it off as the best talent the universe has to offer at this very moment. (Ditto to the Grammys on that front as well.) And that millions and millions of my fellow citizens watch and know markedly more about the nuances of this show that has no reflection on the state of music as an art in our world than they know about the impending Presidential Election. Also, I hate how David Cook in his quest to turn everything into a rock anthem just sings cover songs of cover songs. That is annoying.

So why is this happening?

Ill-advised things that I have bought because they had pictures of mountain goats on the label but in reality were not as cool as actual mountain goats and, parenthetically,the reasons why they were poor choices:
1. A warm 12 pack of Schmidt Ice (Duh, Schmidt Ice isn’t even good cold).
2. A tin of organic mints made by Paul Newman (Chalky texture, suspicious grey hue).

Things I have bought with mountain goats on the label that were exactly as awesome as actual mountain goats:
1. Several six packs of Scapegoat Ale. Hoppy and delicious.
2. Multiple cds and tickets to events where John Darnielle played music (full disclosure, no pictoral representations of mountain goats involved).