I’m in the mood to get fall-down, piss-stinking, bar-fighting, crazy-talking, fuck-anything-that-moves drunk…. I don’t mean a fairies and sunshine, glinda-the-good-witch sort of magic.
I’m in the mood to fucking drink.
I’m in the mood to get fall-down, piss-stinking, bar-fighting, crazy-talking, fuck-anything-that-moves drunk.
This kind of drunk, it has to be, has to be tequila.
There’s a magic about tequila. I don’t mean a fairies and sunshine, glinda-the-good-witch sort of magic. No, this is a bad-juju-bart-no-like magic. This is a dark-fire-in-the-skull magic.
The old joke goes there’s a reason they call it ‘ta kill ya.
Tequila isn’t a beverage. Fuck people who serve it in snifters and pretend it’s cognac. Tequila is a drug. Tequila is meant to be shot, gulped, slammed, pounded. Sucked from a bottle, or if you’re really, really lucky, from a beautiful woman’s mouth. It’s not for fucking sipping. You want to taste it more? Drink more.
I don’t particularly like expensive, super-high-end tequila. Fact is, I’d rather drink a good blanco than a great anejo. The anejo tastes good, sure, but tequila needs to bite. Tequila needs to hurt you when it goes down.
You know what I hate? When people call the lime and salt training wheels. The lime and salt is ritual. It’s part of the process, like rolling a joint or cutting out a line or prepping a shot. And it tastes good, dammit. It’s flavor compliment; it’s not to cover the taste, it’s to enhance it, like seasoning on a steak. I don’t care how good that steak is, without salt and pepper, it’s just flesh. With the seasonings, it’s cuisine.
Give me a shot, make it two, make it three, and quickly, fucking quickly.
Alas.
I’m off to meet a friend for dinner, and you know, I must be a grownup. It’s tuesday, and I have to work tomorrow, and so does he, and I’ll have a twenty-five mile drive home after I drop him at his hotel. So this isn’t the night for fighting and fucking some stranger. We’ll have a few, I’m certain, but…
Sometimes it sucks being a grown-up.
Raincheck on that, ok? I need that tequila drunk. I haven’t been good and pissed since St. Patrick’s day, and that was on on Irish. I’m still needing that tequila drunk, and soon.
I’m right there with ya, dude. Friday can’t get here soon enough. And how about adding in some of those other intoxicants you mention as well … I’m in that kind of mood. This should be one hell of a raincheck.
So, when the fuck you comin’ to Austin?
Gregg
JCon, Baby. You, me, and some Cuervo 1800.
mmmmm, tequila. I’m in. But please do not forget your promise to me…
If I drink enough Tequila, I can speak Spanish. No other drink can do that!
Tequila. You understand tequila. The thought of it sends my pulse jumping and creates a slow burn in my belly, warm, like the thought of sex. The taste of lime and salt and warm lips, hazy memories of laughter and relaxation tease my brain and tempt me.
Yes, I believe Friday will be a straight tequila night, and to hell with Saturday morning.
Amen!
And . . . tequila is the Mexican Viagra!
I can’t even imagine sipping tequila
A quick shot to the back of the throat, the warmth down my neck to my stomach. My cleanest drinking nights were tequila nights.
when the fuck are you coming to Austin? oh wait.. I’m not in Austin.
*sigh*.
Friday my wife’s mother is hosting a teacher happy hour at my house. A house full of teachers drunk on wine. What could be worse? (No TILF action here, they’re all pretty similar to my mother-in-law in age, body type, and attitude.)
On the plus side, I get to cook a few things, set out the food (some crawfish pasta and a couple of muffulettas…pictures will be up on the blog), and then scoot out the back door for a night out on my own.
Since I already drank my share of tequila, I’m thinking the next best thing is boobs in the face. Anybody game? Or am I gonna have to go to one o’ dem professional joints with the overpriced near-beer?
Ray, you need a better class of drunken teachers at your house.
Gregg — hell, I’m not sure. I should be there for Ray’s crawfish thang but not this time.
Andie — I never, ever forget a promise to you, baby!
…And yeah, I did find some tequila last night. Not enough, but you know, it’s great to have friends one can really, really talk to.
Cass starts middle school next year, and from what I’ve heard, the teachers there are young and bohemian and mostly single.
I see someone discovering a deep and abiding passion for PTA meetings.
I’ll be the one scheduling the PTADP breakout session.
PTADP? What do the last two letters stand for, “double penetration”?
Gregg, hopelessly naive
Exactly.
Maybe you’re naive, but you have good instincts.
I stumbled on this from Google and wanted to say thanks for posting