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1) Go pick about 10 pounds of apples off the neighbor's tree that leans over your fence. If you don't pick them, you'll get bears, so you're really just doing the whole neighborhood a favor.
2) Realize that you have to peel, core, and chop about 10 pounds of apples. Swear loudly about your life choices while trying to find the vegetable peeler.
3) After taking a break so your hands don't fall off, put all the apple chunks in the slowcooker with about a cup and a half of sugar (adjust to taste), half a cup of water or apple peel tea, and a cinnamon stick if you're being fancy, 2 teaspoons to a tablespoon of the ground stuff if you're not. Stir it all up.
4) Put the cooker on low, and come back in 4 hours. Poke the apples with a spoon. If they're squishy, mash them down with a potato masher. If not, wait an hour, and poke them with a spoon to make sure.
5) Let cool, after you grab a small bowl's worth to test for poison, then serve.
The park we hung out in backed up to a strip mall. One night, after we'd been chased out of the park by the cops, 5 of us ended up sitting around in a circle, in the back of a white van in the strip mall parking lot with no windows or seats, passing around a bottle of JD, followed by a bottle of SoCo to chase it, followed by a bottle of Fruitopia because it was 1998. Repeat.
Repeat until a quarter to midnight, and we realize we're going to be late to Rocky Horror. The owner of the van was not going, leaving our incredibly drunk asses to try and catch a bus. Except at least one of our merry group can hardly walk. Thankfully, one of my High School besties was working in the strip mall, and was just coming off his shift, and offered to give 4 stupid-drunk people a ride. In his 2 seater Datsun pickup.
Being drunk in the back of a pick up may be one of the worst decisions you could ever make. Lying down and moving at high speeds is not to be attempted while shitfaced. The 3 of us in the back somehow managed to not puke until we got to stoplights. We got to Rocky, they let us in (smelling of booze and puke and clearly being underage), where we got kicked out not long after when someone passed out on the bathroom floor. We all walked (I think? It gets hazy about here) to my mom's tiny 1 bedroom apartment, more horking along the way, and commandeered a floor. Wake up to the worst hangover I've ever had and will ever have, and mom offering up a nice huge greasy plate of fried eggs.
That woman is amazing at punishing a hangover.
Incredibly silly because it's the bit that can't hurt me that makes me panic.