Sunday, November 16, 2014

University admissions stuff that you may want to know.

...and they don't tell you because they don't (often) KNOW to tell you.

Anyway, this is stuff I've learned at the last minute, and I hope this helps someone. May it be imputed unto us as a righteousness.

(Non-USA readers: Welcome back and just sit back with a soothing beverage, marveling at this byzantine process. Oh, and ovah heah, we often use "university" and "college" and "school" interchangeably.)

This is primarily deals with getting those whom you've offsprung into very competitive universities. Relatively few schools fall into this category, so don't sweat it in EVERY case.

Anyway.

Start by selecting all the conceivable, possible places your kid would like to attend. Whittle that down by scratching out the ones you dislike. Then divide the list into "Dream," "Likely," and "Safety" schools. At NOS' school, they have a computer "scattergraph" that shows you at a glance the likelihood of your child being admitted to this or that university based on grades and standardized tests. These are the things we'll look at right off the top.

First, grades.

If you're lucky/smart you're reading this when your kid still has 3 or so years to start thinking of this.

Good.

I cannot overemphasize how much easier everything gets with a good grade point average. If you have to go all "Simon Legree's tiger mother" do it. Do whatever you have to, short of a felony, to get your kid to study and do well.

I've discovered, in the case of boys, that video games are the Anti-Christ, the sworn blood enemy of optimal academic performance. A little video game activity AFTER schoolwork and on weekends is fine, but if your son has a 75" HD TV with PS4, XBOX and Wii and surround sound, you have a very uphill fight. (NOS has none of these, Deo gratias.)

You'll have to check to see what assignments and tests are coming up, and make sure they are completed. In NOS' case, the magic bullet was making sure he studied for tests "the day before the day before." This puts the subject matter into long term, rather than short term, memory. This is key, because your average teenage boy has the short term memory of a goldfish entering rehab.

Second, the SAT. Don't waste your time on prep courses. The SAT is, at its core, an IQ test and its answers have a "pattern." The easier it is for your kid to "spot the pattern" the more accurate his (or her, I don't discriminate) guesses are, and the higher the score. My suggestion? Find a whole mess of Official SAT Practice Tests. Have your kid take the first one WITHOUT TIMING and OPEN BOOK. You want him to see where he "guesses/answers wrong" and what the testmakers thinking is IN REAL TIME.

I cannot stress this enough.

Once your kid sees how a given test is "wired" when he comes to a question he can't answer correctly in a few seconds, he will know HOW to eliminate the other answers. I guesstimate this is worth +/-250 points.

Oh, and many top-tier schools will also ask your kid to take "SAT subject tests." I very strongly suggest your child takes a given subject test the summer immediately following having completed that course in high school. If your daughter took biology in 10th grade, that's the time to take the corresponding test. Why? Because the material is fresh in her mind and if she takes it mid-12th grade, she'll have to study a LOT for that test and her odds of doing well are nowhere near as good.

Next we come to the dreaded essay. If your child is applying to a top-tier institution, this could be worth as much as the SAT and/or grades. One Very Big Deal University admissions person told me that 95% of applicants "flat-out cannot write, of the remaining 5%, 3% can write, but just in a 'grammatically correct way' and only 2% can write both correctly and well. That 2% gets admitted pretty much regardless of grades or SAT scores."

Some douchebag unscrupulous parents will write their kid's essay for him, or worse, hire a ghostwriter. Don't. The people at the admissions office who read essays -- and most of them do nothing but read essays -- are keen spotters of the "voice" of a 12th grader...or "mutton writing as lamb" as it were. My suggestion? Have your kid write the essay WELL ahead of its due date. A week later, have him rewrite it and then you edit it. Make suggestions, check for solecisms, etc. Don't CHANGE anything, but, rather, send it back with your notes and markups. Let him change it. Repeat 2-3 or times.

The essay (and this is why the few kids who can nail it get in no matter what) has certain things it must accomplish:

1- It must address the question. ("What do you consider the most important quality in a 21st Century global citizen?" or whatever.)
2- It must be grammatically correct. (Skip the artistic license for now.)
3- It must be a very engaging read. If the reader forgets he's reading "an application essay" that's a win.
4- It must, very subliminally, underscore all of the points which the admissions office considers favorable. (More on this anon.)
5- OPTIONAL - If you wish to lay claim to one of the various demographic groups that are treated with a measure of advantage, look for an essay question (usually they have three) that has wording such as "your culture" or "heritage" or similar. The essay should subliminally touch upon one's favorable demography without beating people over the head with it. Similarly, if seriously difficulties have beset your family that can be plausibly assumed to have affected your child and his/her performance it should also be brought up subtly at this point.

After this, look over the application materials. If a given university is "on the Common app" AND they waive the application fee, apply to it...what the Hell. But be warned, about half of the top-tier schools are NOT on the Common app for a number of reasons of varying levels of reasonableness and validity. It is what it is.

When you are poring over these materials, especially from the top-tier universities, be on the lookout for the term "holistic admissions." This means "we'll let your kid in based on whether we like him/her and not on any objective criteria." Which is a positive if your child is in a desirable demographic category, not so much if not.

This is where we hit some serious turbulence. I am not here to argue in favor or against these factors in the admissions process...just to tell you what they are, how they may affect you and how you can navigate them to your child's benefit. So don't get your ideological undies in a twist.

In schools that specifically tout their "holistic admissions" sex and ethnicity matter a great deal. They will emphatically deny it, but -- and I can't tell you how I know this to be 100% true, you'll just have to trust me -- that is the case.

Female applicants in the "STEM" areas have a colossal advantage, for instance.

Most Hispanics* have an advantage over their Anglo counterparts, African-Americans have an advantage over most** Asian-Americans. It is what it is.***

In these cases, what "holistic admissions" means to applicants is (and this is a direct quote from an Ivy-league admissions type) "We want to let you in, please give us an excuse."

This doesn't mean that if your child is a WASP from a nice suburban school he has no chance; not at all. But he or she should "compensate" with the other things mentioned herein.

Another crucial factor is "interest quotient" which is not merely "how badly does this applicant want to attend this august institution?" but "How is this applicant's seriousness of interest evidenced?"

Your child should start communicating with the admissions office and any persons affiliated therewith. Some have "student ambassadors" who sit in the admissions meetings and offer whatever insight into a given applicant and, although they have no vote, their input is taken very seriously and can often sway the decision. Your child should be in email conversations with these folks, asking about student activities, internship and practical-experience opportunities, asking questions about campus life, etc., etc.

A campus visit, if at all possible, should be scheduled and followed up with email conversations.

This will be helpful also should the university in question require an interview. (The further up the top-tier you go, the likelier this will be.) In the matter of the interview, you should conduct a few mock-interview rounds with your little darling. No so much that the responses sound "canned" and rehearsed, but so that the answers are fluid and devoid of the "uh...um" and "you know" and "like." The metric for success is that the closer this comes to a conversation the better, and the more it becomes an interrogation with monosyllabic answers, the worse.

Like in the essay, this conversation should touch upon "the good stuff" as noted above and as will follow.

The last thing to shore up are the extracurriculars. Ideally (and in the case of top-tier schools, it's practically an unwritten "must") your child will have:

1- An athletic activity (croquet, baseball, whatever)
2- A community service.
3- A leadership component (this, incidentally, is NOT the same as joining the Leadership Club)
4- A personal interest (the Kite club, the Astronomy club)

Regarding items 1, 2, and 4, the more years doing this your child has, the better...especially as it shows commitment. This is key.

There can be some overlap, of course (being elected president of the croquet club, for example) and where there is no ideal activity for your kid, have him/her start one, showing both the interest and the leadership.

Lastly, if you at all have ANY "ins" at a given university, it's okay to deploy these, but NOT HEAVYHANDEDLY.

Hope this helps someone!

-J.

* Cubans are, for the purposes of university admissions, the "wrong" kind of Hispanic. In those applications listing these as multiple choice and given that 90% of Cubans have family in Spain or Latin America, I suggest ticking the box that says "Hispanic/Latino Other."
** Filipinos, for the purposes of university admissions, are the "right" kind of Asian
*** Because some surnames are not obviously of a given ethnicity or someone may have one Anglo and one "ethnic" parent, it will be an OPTIONAL question on the application to state one's "ethnic self-identification."

Sunday, November 09, 2014

Some thoughts on matters serious.

It is a poorly kept secret that I seek to live my life in as unserious a manner as circumstances allow.

Yet, sometimes, the circs, well, don't allow. This is, more or less, one such instance.

Via the lovely and gracious Mrs. Dorian Grey Lisa Birnbach I found this piece in The Washington Post.

And it got me thinking.

(Go, read it. I'll still be here. In fact, I'll go put on some tea. Orange Pekoe suggests itself.)

First, there are some nitpicky things I'd bring up, but won't because a) it's ungracious, and b) these nitpicky things are merely tangential to my larger set of points.

One of my fears when a piece like this comes out, detailing a lamentable episode such as this, is that it's publication is like a starting gun to the "Who's had it worse?" steeplechase. (This, incidentally, drives me up the bloody wall.)

As Graham himself notes: "Try as I may to see things from the perspective of a white person, I can see them only from the experience that I have as a black man and had as a black boy." Translation: "You can only see things from your perspective." That perspective may be somewhat closer or much further from someone else's, but it'll never be exactly The Other Person's. So, on the one hand, I have no idea what it's like to be a black man in 2014 America...but I know what it's like to be a Hispanic man in 2014 America.

So I have that going for me.

Anyway, my reaction to Graham's piece was "So what are we going to do?"

While it's true that racism isn't nearly what it was when I was a little kid, it's also not completely eradicated, refusing to go extinct like a vile sort of coelacanth. "So what are we going to do?"

It's also true that certain people have very unfair socio-economic advantages due to their ethnicity. "So what are we going to do?"

I can't tell you what to do with your life or the upbringing of your children, I can only tell you what I've done with my life, with my kids, and remind you how much money my perspective cost you to read.

My father (and there's a LOT of my ol' man in this) was a managing partner for [Insert Global Region here.] of a then-Big Eight accounting firm. By every metric, his office was the best for that entire firm, year-after-year. And year after year, he kept getting passed up in favor of other partners who were, let's face it, Anglo-er than he. After the third such instance, we went out to lunch where a man-to-man talk ensued.

He explained that in this world, with a name like mine, even if I had every single achievement and accolade that existed, some people would treat me unfairly and some could even hate* me; and I had better well get used to it. He also said it would likely come from "different places** than you may be led to believe."

With this, he didn't mean so much "resign yourself to your fate" as "figure out how to overcome this situation." Because to him, and to me, quiet resignation in the face of injustice gave him a pain as if he were passing a faming porcupine sideways.

By the time he retired from the then-Big Eight firm, he was acknowledged for his expertise, skill, and wisdom. At his retirement party, many of the people*** who passed him up, quietly contrite, came up to him and tried to half-explain, half-apologize for their actions and decisions of so many years prior. My dad just smiled and said "I hope you learned to not let that happen again, and to make sure your people don't let that happen again."

And that brings up the main thrust of my post. "So what are we going to do?"

The idea, as I see it, is to eradicate racism and hatred and bigotry.

"So what are we going to do?"

Of course, my dad made sure I went to The Right Schools, that I spoke at least three (OK, 2½)languages without a trace of accent, that I behaved with kindness and charity and courtesy to everyone. What I was going to do was make sure that I would only treat people as individuals and not as _______-Americans.

I would tell my sons that while they were expected to do likewise, they were also to expect that not everyone would be so kind. "Some people, as your grandfather would say, will spot your name on a list and just from that, hate you."

As my dad told me -- and this story shall the good man teach his son -- I was not to let that hate dwell and grow within me. My soul was to be "a rocky place where the seed of hatred could find no purchase."  His phrase was always "God doesn't hear accents and God doesn't see skin color."

Next, I caution them, as I was cautioned, that they have to go twice as far and twice as fast just to keep up with their Anglo counterparts. It's not fair, but it has to be done. This is the only way to make sure that their children "only" have to go 50% further and faster than their Anglo contemporaries. It shouldn't be this way, but it is and you might as well argue against gravity.

Is it fair that my sons will have to climb a steeper hill in many aspects of life that would their Anglo counterparts? No. It isn't fair. It's emphatically, outrageously unfair. But that's the current reality with which they must live, but they can derive some measure of comfort from the fact that due to their grandfather's effort and example (and, I'd like to think Graham's kids can draw the same from his and his wife's) it's not as unfair as it used to be.

Lastly, what to do when the inevitable slur is flung at them? Partly, in my case at least, it's been important to brace them for the inevitability. We live in a world which still bears the marks of the darker side of human nature. To steel them against such expressions of hatred, while simultaneously seeking to minimize the opportunities for hatred to happen, has been a crucial aspect of my role as father. "This is going to happen. It happens because there is evil and brokenness in the world, and not because of anything you did. These people who might say these things, or similar things to your Jewish friends, or your black friends are poisoned inside and slowly dying from that poison. And these things are the effects of that poison."

It's not easy, it's not pretty and it's not fair. But all you can do to make things better is press forward**** regardless.
Just my 2¢.

-J.

* He used to say "There are people who only need to see your name in the phonebook to hate you."
** This was during the Boston Busing Riots. As he said: "Those weren't Goldwater fans beating up those black kids." True to his words, even though I attended college in the Very Deep South, I've only been called a "spic" three times: In NYC, Philadelphia and San Francisco.

*** It was gratifying that when Dad died in 2012 from Alzheimer's, almost all of these people -- themselves retired and therefore with nothing to either prove or gain -- traveled to attend the funeral.

**** There is a great phrase in Spanish which, natch, translates very poorly, that goes something like: "Never go back, not even to gather momentum."

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Automotive cheapskateness, part 2

It is an article of faith with me that being civilized is, to a colossal extent, independent budgetary constraints. Granted, being of generous means does afford some latitude, but that can be greatly mitigated by intelligence, judiciousness, and fanatical research.

Let's once again take an example of this principle from the automotive category.

Here, on the outer fringes of paradise, the sweet-spot car is a BMW convertible. It's got four seats, a very snug and climate-proof top, "cachet" (crucial, 'round these parts, FWIW), driving pleasure and performance, style to burn, decent economy and so forth.

But what if your wallet cannot be stretched to accommodate the price of admission of the above?

I bring you the Saab Viggen Convertible.




Made from 1999-2002, with the aid of British racing legend Tom Walkinshaw, the Viggen is one of those hidden gems that punches wa-a-a-a-a-y above its weight, and has collectability on its side in a way the BMW (save for some M3 drop-tops) can only dream of; especially now that Saab seems to be slowly emerging from "administration" (the Swedish equivalent to bankruptcy).

0-60 in 6.something seconds, top speed of 155mph, 30+mpg, ridiculously low prices ("Saab? Who makes that?") and the legendary safety* and durability of Saabs.

There are some caveats, as usual. The legendary durability of Saabs means that while you can drive the car eleventy squillion miles, almost all of the cars you'll find for sale will have eleventy squillion miles. Also there are some minor issues with torque steer (addressed by buying the "Viggen rescue kit" which even a complete mechanical nitwit like me can install) and sludge buildup which is also easily addressed by making sure the car you are buying also has the "PCV update" or installing it. And it's only available with a manual transmission, so the delicate needn't apply.

The leather tends to suffer if neglected, especially the driver's side bolster and armrest.

Furthermore, because of the unique-to-Saab engine system design, these cars are VERY tunable, and $299 will give you more than enough power to give concern to your typical Bimmer jockey. (For an additional $1000, you can give him neurasthenia.)
So, basically, for +/- $12,000 including improvements, you can have a gorgeous, fast, stylish, reliable**, safe, unique and delightful car...at a quarter of the price of a BMW or Audi.

* I have no greater compliment than this for Saab safety: With a plethora of choices available to me, I bought my own 16 year old son a Saab as his first car.

** This assumes proper maintenance. Sprint, don't walk, away from any car without a full service history.

Sunday, March 02, 2014

Michael Mattis, 1964-2014.

I've just gotten the horrible news my pal Michael Mattis died unexpectedly last night.

Michael was a bon vivant of whom Wodehouse would have been proud. A character, in the brightest and noblest sense of the word.

Besides all of the boulevardier-ness for which he was justifiably famous, he was also a quietly kind and generous man, on whom I could (and did) count when I had blundered. His advice, counsel and assistance to me were crucial at that time and, like the lion with the thorn in the paw, such kindness has and will not be forgotten.

I had wished to catch up with him on his recent trip here to Florida, but we never managed to square away our respective schedules. (OK, my schedule.) And now I'll have to wait until we're both on the other side.

I cannot express my sadness and shock and the depths to which I will miss him. Rest well, my friend.

Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in pace. Amen.

Monday, February 10, 2014

How Whit Stillman got me married.

Ambling around Twitter, waiting for my 1pm teleconference with Spain to arrive (late, as usual), I see this link posted by the estimable Whit Stillman.

This reminds me that I happen to be working on a tenuously similar* thing in Spain about which I cannot comment at the moment. Then I am reminded this has nothing to do with the main point of this missive, which is to explain how, unbeknownst to him, Whit Stillman landed me a wife.
_______

One day, while I was but a mere MBA hopeful, my friend Sam, then a TV & Film Production major, scored tickets to a preview of A Certain Film, directed by A Director Who Shan't Be Named. I knew not ADWSBN, and initially demurred. But Sam was adamant that ADWSBN was the next great thing and his previous film was hilarious and this film promised to be just as funny, and c'mon, be a pal.

So I relented.

Film geeks that we were, we arrived early and positioned ourselves in the dead center of the theater. Soon enough it began to fill up. I noticed that Sam and I were, um, the cineaste equivalent of Jets amid Sharks, if you will.

So the film starts and moves along until there's a riot scene, to which the rest of the audience responds with a considerably warmer sort of enthusiasm than I thought warranted. Being, as you will recall, in the very dead center of a group of people who were (visibly and very audibly) favorably disposed to an onscreen riot -- making their assent emphatic via concession snacks being launched screenwards -- made me somewhat uncomfortable and rather tarnished the evening for me to the extent that copious beers were unable to ameliorate.

So, basically, Sam owed me one. Sam knew he owed me one. An uncomfortable silence cast a shadow, a it were, over the friendship.

There things remained for some time.

One day Same showed up and said "I got another pair of tickets." I rolled my eyes like a lesser sort of slot machine and pondered what sort of defense I might muster for a manslaughter trial. Sam, being a quick-witted lad, immediately realized why I, red-eyed and breathing fire, had carefully placed my hands around his neck.

"It's called Metropolitan," he explained. He further went on to explain how it was very highly regarded and "was right up my alley." Noting that several scenes featured "men in tuxedos and white tie," he suggested this minimized the probability of a riot erupting somewhere in the late second act, thereby heading off the possibilities the rest of the theatergoing crowd may, unexpectedly, stand on the armrests to throw Jujyfruits in approval of a protagonist setting a restaurant alight and suggesting said protagonist visit homicide upon the antagonist, as the latter is a vile Oedipalist.

I looked sideways at Sam, at whose suggestion I'd nearly tested my family history of hypertension, and decided to hear his views on the matter instead of immediately performing something invasive with the tickets.

He explained, in the most cursory of terms, the general plot of the film, and then proceeded to recount the triumphs of the film at Cannes, etc.

"Fine, let's go."

"We-e-e-e-ell..."

My keen sense told me something was amiss. Sam was offering tickets but bailing out? As it turned out, Sam had figured out this film was likelier to appeal to my tribe than his. Comedies of manners(less) didn't compete with whatever was on his agenda at the age of 21.

Thus, he gave me both tickets and counted the blood feud as successfully concluded.

I found the prettiest girl who considered me tolerable, and somehow giving the impression I had enviable contacts in high places, dazzled her into going to this screening. Which she and I both enjoyed immensely.

So much did she enjoy it that, less than two years later we were engaged and then, as one does, got married.

-J.

* Similar only in the sense it has to do with the same industry.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Building blocks, Martini Dept.

About four years ago, Noilly Prat began selling its European version vermouth in these here United States.

There were howls and imprecations.

Me, being the press-on-regardless type, merely adjusted and kept going.

The new-to-us vermouth is citrusier and a shade sweeter, so I just adjust my 5:1 martini ratio to 6:1 to compensate, so if that's what you have, now you know how to work it. Be advised the ensuing Martini won't be pellucidly clear.

The one thing to remember about vermouths is that they are wine. As such, they will spoil at a far quicker rate than spirits. I buy vermouths (for sweet, my choice is Martini & Rossi) in the teeniest possible bottle, and I use a Vac-U-Vin vacuum stopper system and then stash them in the fridge. Buying a giant bottle, unless you make a lot of fish fumet, is very false economy.

Anyway.

Noilly Prat.

The better version you want, for Martini purposes, is the "Extra Dry." You won't be far wrong with the "Original Dry" so you do whatever you want.

The "Extra Dry" is clean, with subtle woodsy notes, with hints of juniper (!) and bay leaves and other woody herbs. Its light, crisp finish make it a terrific aperitif choice (as well as a good choice for cooking seafood) and, best of all, it's a steal.

Friday, December 13, 2013

The King of Beasts, Speakeasy Monthwise.

The visual most people get when they think "cocktail" or "speakeasy" or anything along those lines is The Dry Martini.

Other blogs, bless them, get into the historical aspects of who invented this, when and where.

I, frankly, cannot be made to care. What I really wish to focus on, as re. The Dry Martini, is the proper way to mix one, along with some practical detours on this matter.

First, a proper one is made with gin. I can more-or-less live with a vodka version is the imbiber requesting same says "vodka martini" upon ordering, in recognition he (or she, for we do not discriminate on the Yuletide...or any other tide, for that matter) is asking for a variation on the accepted standard.

Here is where we get to sit down like mature-ish adults and discuss the elephant in the room: Gin.

Gin -- and for those among the assembled who may be rabid cocktailians it may be a bitter truth to recognize -- is an acquired taste, like Saabs or reggae. Most non-cocktailians simply do not like gin, probably do not own any gin (at most they'll have some ancient leftover bottle from a party where they figured someone would have gin-and-tonics), and telling them gin is vodka+aromatics is not going to help.

These folks, when you tell them there are people who have 8+ bottles of gin in their arsenal (after getting over the shock that such people as cocktailians exist) look at you as if you've described your youngest daughter majoring in arson with a minor in "doing things to rodents with a fork."

The reason telling them gin is vodka+aromatics is not going to help is because it's these very aromatics (I'm looking at you, juniper) that are the hurdle which they have not yet found an easy way to clear. Cocktailians, as a tribe, suffer the fault of wishing to naturalize new tribespersons by Throwing Them Into The Deep End. Potential tribespeople, as it turns out, vehemently wish to not Be Thrown Into The Deep End and there the impasse remains.

The lovely and gracious and suspiciously youthful Lisa Birnbach, has provided us a new, better path of initiation into the joys of The Dry Martini. One with, oh, training wheels. In her book True Prep, she details a drink called The Mixed Marriage:

Cocktail hour demands drinks with brio. Not for us a bananatini or a lollipop-flavored frozen margarita. Simple daiquiris, gimlets and cosmos are okay for some, but the basic prep cocktail is a martini. Those Who Know have discovered that traditions need shaking up (or is it stirring?) from time to time. A vodka martini can seem boring, a gin martini can taste medicinal. Conventional wisdom dictates we never mix our liquors, but now and then we have to take a leap from the commonplace. Let us propose the Mixed Marriage; the Lucy and Desi of adult beverages.
The recipe for which is as follows:
 
Two jiggers Plymouth Gin
Two Jiggers Smirnoff
(my choice is Finlandia, but you do whatever) Vodka
One capful Noilly Prat Vermouth (Yes, we said a capful. It's a cocktail.)
Olive or twist, for garnish

La Birnbach has done two things here. First, she provides a gateway Martini a noble and commendable and charitable deed in and of itself and, also, smashes the loathsome "over-dryness" fetish, where vermouth is applied via dropper, atomizer or other means of similar paucity. A Martini has vermouth, people, and you're meant to taste the interplay between the base spirit and the modifier. (A modifier modifies, after all.)

This, especially if your fire/candlelit wintry cocktail party features an impressive representation of the distaff side, is an ideal start people along the One True Way.

Incidentally, Plymouth Gin, as mentioned above is the ideal introduction to gin. (More on the next post, wherein I delve into the specific elements.) In fact, it's my choice for gin-and-tonic. Also right-on-the-money is Noilly Prat, ideally the Extra Dry, as the vermouth of choice. (Ibid.)

Once you have people accepting this, it's a short leap to a classic version. And, because you deserve to know, here is my recipe for the classic:

2½ oz. gin (Plymouth if you have recent converts, Bombay Sapphire otherwise)
½ oz. Noilly Prat extra dry vermouth, (It should be cold, as open vermouth should be stored with a vacuum stopper in the fridge, buy the smallest bottle available.)
Cube ice as needed
1 lemon twist (no pith)
1 FROZEN martini glass

Fill your mixing beaker/glass with the fluids and ice and stir for two full minutes and then strain the Martini into your glass, and garnish with the lemon twist.

 And there you are. Now, stop living like an animal.