I may have to change my name from Mother Drucker to Mother Drinker. Especially when my ice cubes look like that. That’s old-school sexy. I remember when Sharon Stone was an ice-pick wielding sociopath in Basic Instinct. (Probably still is, in real life.) She told Michael Douglas that she liked to break up her own ice because she liked rough edges. Meooowwr. Break me off a piece of that… WHAT? We’re talking about ICE, people. Work with me here.
The Névé Luxury Ice Company takes foodie fetishism to new heights (or new lows, brrrr….) and truly, the money spent on haute ice would be far better used feeding books to hungry school children who don’t read good than chilling in Uncle Moshe’s glass at the Brillstein bar mitzvah.
That said, PRETTY! And super cold, so as not to dilute the vodka. Was introduced to this cool concept yesterday at Pourtal Wine Tasting Bar in Santa Monica with awesome pal Arianna. I don’t love Pourtal. I’ve never been a fan of the whole buy a card, get a squirt schtick. But I do admire their Kobe weenies.
Plus, remember the obnoxious guy who told my belle pal Christelle that all French people are snooty? WELL HE’S BACK. Arianna and I randomly sat next to him at Houston’s bar last night! I didn’t recognize him at first. But as I walked past him to go to the loo, it hit me: DOUCHE. So when I got back, it was really no surprise to learn that in the two minutes I’d been gone, he’d managed to insinuate that Arianna was an aged, homeless hobo. So cold. So cold.