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.)
2 comments:
You know, I'm pretty sure that drink was called an "artic blowjob," but maybe that is just what I wished it had been called. It did get better when we put some of that blood orange soda in it. or maybe it just got better after you had a few of them.
well, it was powdered pink lemonade--the arctic blowjob.
with the blood orange soda it's the eskimo vagina. Better yet, it could be called something like the arctic sunrise, or the that time of the month. Because like an eskimo's vagina, the blood orange sun only rises about once a month.
If it's got lime zest in it, it's the eskimo hair pie.
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