I gave my liver a jazz funeral on Tuesday night. On Wednesday, I got two bean and potato tacos with sides of jalapeno and salsa from the Taco Shack. I ate the first taco. Delicious. I ate half of the second taco. Uh-oh! Something bad is happening. I threw the remaining taco half away. Then I threw up undigested pure rum. If I had vomited in a shotglass, anyone wanting some free rum could have slammed it down. There weren't even any taco particles in there. Then I regretted throwing the taco half away. I wanted to eat that taco half. Then I slept for 14 hours. I'm a pirate!
(I tried to Google image search the perfect photo for this post, but the phrase "pirate taco rum" did not produce any images. If I saw some pirate taco rum on the shelf, I would definitely consider looking at it. A month ago some friends invented a mediocre drink called an "eskimo vagina." It is what happens when you want to make a margarita, but are forced to use powdered orange drink instead of margarita mix. It sort of tastes like Michael Dukakis' 1988 presidential campaign.)