|Current mood:|| depressed|
|Current music:||Morning Report With Mark & Steve, WOC AM 1420|
It's Cinco De Mayo Eve, You Bastards
Before we get too heavily into the whole massive let it all hang out party like there's no tomorrow celebratory blowout that is Cinco De Mayo, I want to take a look at the latest celebrity suicide, which I will be doing promptly yesterday. Or maybe first thing the day before yesterday. Or possibly on some yet to named point in the future or past.
The point is, it will be finished ahead of schedule, under budget and the ratings will kill. That's why Hollywood is always calling me every-time they need anything done but you didn't come here to hear about all the desperate verging on stalking begging I get from Tinseltown. You came here to party like it's May 5, 1862 and General Ignacio Zaragoza Seguín himself is behind the bar serving up the Tequilia Grande's (The drink, not the great restaurant in Vienna...Virginia, not Austria).
And that's what we're going to do. Right now, this very minute. Right after I tell you how much my day sucked. So put the El Dia De La Batalla De Puebla on hold for just another minute and worry about something that really matters: me. I got to the office this morning to find a memo from The Chief on my desk containing a bunch of gibberish about how hookers, booze and even non-hooker strangers are no longer allowed in our hotel rooms during missions.
Then, while I was complaining about how drug addiction is ruining this country and threatening our very way of life...I don't know if I've ever told you about The Chief before so, briefly: He's a basically nice, decent guy but he has a dark sinister side. He's a Tagamet junkie and he blames all his problems on sober innocent people like me...Minx, my secretary, made things worse, just like she always does, by saying, "It's nothing new. I've been trying to tell you about it for over two weeks now. Look at the date."
So I humored her and then checked my calendar and said, "He issued this on April 14. That explains everything. The fourteenth was a Saturday. I don't work weekends and whatever happens on them don't affect me."
"Uh huh," she said, while handing me another memo from The Chief. This one was dated today and contained instructions to go to Bogotá and topple the government or prevent the government from being toppled or ruin the local economy or prevent the economy from being ruined or something like that, anyway, it was a pretty standard assignment but then there was the second page. Handwritten on White House stationary and it was the usual "Keep up the good work," pep talk but then there was this: MOST OF ALL, NO HOOKERS AND NO BOOZE. I SWEAR, IF YOU EMBARRASS ME, I'LL PERSONALLY ESCORT YOU TO YOUR NEXT ASSIGNMENT: THULE. AND YOU BETTER REMEMBER YOUR SNOW SHOVEL BECAUSE YOU'LL BE THERE FOR A VERY LONG TIME. LIKE FOREVER! PS I AM NOT KIDDING!
I could tell that misguided and needlessly paranoid as he was that he was also serious because he never uses all caps unless he means it. Except when he accidentally pushes the Caps Lock key---which hardly ever happens when he's handwriting a memo. So, just in case, on the off chance that he was serious and this wasn't some sort of twisted and very late April Fool's Day prank, I went to Bogotá and toppled or prevented toppling the government or ruined the economy or saved the economy or whatever it was that I was supposed to do and I did it all with the help of hardly any boozed up hookers.
Was that any way to start Cinco De Mayo Eve? No, no and no. And I'll tell you something else, if I wasn't allergic to frostbite, I would have called his bluff. And have you ever tried toppling any Latin American government without first inviting every single hooker in the entire country to your room for drinks and what we like to call enhanced interrogation? Trust me, it ain't easy.
But what's done is done, the spilled milk has flowed under the bridge and tomorrow is another day. A Saturday, to be exact, and that is a good thing because I know you're planning on drinking yourself into a coma tonight and awaking with the biggest headache of your life and the last thing you need is for some idiot on a power trip just because he's the boss telling you what to do all day.
So let's get this thing started by seeing what Fifi, my Sommelier, has cooked up for tonight's Theme Drink:
Cinco De Paloma
2 oz blanco or reposado tequila
6 oz fresh grapefruit soda
1/2 oz lime juice
salt for rimming (optional)
Rim a collins glass with salt.
Fill the glass with ice and add the tequila and lime juice.
Top it off with grapefruit soda.
That was pretty decent of her, wasn't it? Considering the French lost that battle and everything. And speaking of optional rimming, it's a good thing we have lots of Elotes Tatemados, Nopales and Tinga Poblana De Pollo and, because we think of everything here, we also have tons of food. Because after all that rimming, optional and otherwise, and given what kind of day it's already been, you're likely to be hungry later. ¡Salud! And hope that Monday will signal a return to normalcy.
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