THe FReCKLeD FINGeR

Big shout out goes to El Rancho, the lovely venue I attended tonight for some delicious nachos and strong sangria.

Oh yea, I'd also like to extend a  giant heart-warming thanks for the super fucking loud Mexican dance music.  I couldn't even taste the sweat from the cooks on my food.  I'm not trying to sound like an old, unhip guy or anything like that because, believe it or not, I'm pretty goddamn hip thank you very much.  But for Christ's sake, I'd want to die at the Alamo too if I heard this shit blasting from the Mexican base every night.

"YES, WE'D LIKE THE NACHOS, PLEASE!"

"Tacos?"

"NACHOS!"

"Beef or chicken on your tacos?"

"NACHOS! NA-NA-NA-NACHOS!!"

"Ta-"

"NO! TU ERES UN RETARDO"

My body is very confused right now.  I had to use a tone tonight that I specifically reserve for domestic disputes:

"NO! LISTEN! I SWEAR TO YOU!  I ONLY WATCH THESE VIDEOS BECAUSE THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU DON'T WANT TO DO! NO! I DON'T WANT YOU TO DO THEM JUST BECAUSE I WANT THEM, I WANT YOU TO DO THEM TO ME!"

"NO, YOU GET OUT! I PAY 1/3rd OF THE RENT!"

"YOU NEVER PUT ENOUGH GODDAMN MIX IN THE ICED TEA!"

"I JUST WATCHED YOUR DOG EAT HIS OWN SHIT THEN DELIBERATELY LICK MY MOUTH!"

Great, now my body is under the impression: "Hey, I'll just use it whenever I want".