Had to take the whole day off yesterday due to cataclysmic fallout from thermonuclear alcobooze. Professional? You bet.
A generous manager type took the team out for el Spanish mealio, confirming once and for all that tapas sucks harder than Don Quixote’s donkey. Even the best efforts to go home at a reasonable hour after the Candy Bar phase were thwarted. The memory starts to go fuzzy at the post-2am session in ‘Fingers’. For the uninitiated this isn’t a house of vaseline-aided massage but in fact a filthy midweek alcoholics’ piano bar. People handing me tequila shots out of the mist.
{ 20 02 2004 }
20-Feb-04 at 12:05 pm | Permalink
tapas sucks harder than Don Quixote’s donkey > God, yeah. It wasn’t Barioja, by any chance, was it? Fucking detest that place. Hate chorizo et al, hate olives, hate sangria.
vaseline-aided massage > *cackle*
20-Feb-04 at 1:24 pm | Permalink
The offending establishment was La Tasca, which I can only conclude means The Swollen Testes in spanish.
20-Feb-04 at 4:53 pm | Permalink
lovely.
25-Feb-04 at 8:27 pm | Permalink
Tequila, btw > My poison. There’s this fantastic brand called Arette. Its slicker than Hugh Hefner covered in KY Jelly and hits you harder than that bus that comes out of nowhere in Final Destination. We love tequila. Hangover-tastic, tho