So several years ago, my buddy flies to Italy on a two week post graduation soul searching rendezvous. My buddies and I felt dejected that we were to remain in this filthy crawl space of latent sexual ambiguity known as Los Angeles, so we decided to paint the town crimson with the blood Karen bathes in to keep her skin silky smooth. In unprecedented fashion, I begin hitting the clubs ala 50 cent. Climb Thar was present for some of these occasions, but even he couldn't handle the life of a degenerate Angelino! We hit the trendy dance clubs in the O.C, the exclusive V.I.P clubs on Hollywood & Vine (were turned away), along with other local treasures. This whole process was to take place for the entire tenure that our buddy was to be off having a blast in the vineyards of Italia. We rightfully christened the event "Italy Comes to Us".
But remaining in the confines of Mejico Norte wasn't enough, to truly outdo our buddy's European exploits, we ourselves needed to travel abroad, so onward we traversed towards the Rio Tephaulitcan, known to lay people as Rosarito. Now every Spring Break this place turns in to a dome of debauchery, with scantily clad cougars and bosom bearing bombshells exposing their estrogenic fruits to everyone's delight. What we were driving in to was anything but. Not only were there no other Americans in the entire town, but there were no visitors of any color, class, or creed to be seen! This only became apparent when dawn canvassed over the Mayan temples off in the great expanse.
WE ARE LEGEND!!!
An afternoon of shopping for sombreros, lucha libre mascaras, y boleros, left us quite parched. So we entered the largest hotel in the hacienda, known as "Rosarito Hotel" if memory serves me right. Our plan was to speak to the concierge and get a low down on the nightlife. An earlier walk through of the infamous Papas & Beers was anything but what was advertised.
So Adam (the vaginal venturer of the group) sees an amply fleshed socialite of corpulent character sitting alone at the bar sulking in her dismembered aspirations. A few minutes pass and I join the two at helm's gate. This is Mejico, so drinking anything but Tequila and Mexican beer will get you stabbed and thrown on top of a pack mule for subsequent mutilation at the nearby Mayan casino. I followed suit and asked for a shot of Jose Cuervo 1800 and a bottle of Sol.
After 4-5 rounds of tequila chased by Mexican beer in the span of 40 minutes, I departed from the lovebirds and met with the 3rd member of the triad... The Silent but Violent member known simply as "Steve".
"Where da fuck da pussy at?!?" I exclaimed!!
An off we went...
Never have I experienced anything in all my years. As we strolled down the strip in search of entertainment, we were accosted every 6 feet by bartenders who were practically paying us to go drink in their establishment. Like I said earlier, we were the only people present in what is occasionally a major tourist spot.
"20 beers for $10 dolla"
"24 beers for $8 dolla"
"All You can drink all night $20"
This was too good to be true. At one point a bartender was feeding me tequila from a bottle to bait me in. I drank heartedly, and continued on.
We intermittently stopped at this one S-Hole to take the Browns to the Superbowl, and purchased a couple alcohol laced libations in kind.
Off to the streets again...By this point I was walking as if I got ball rimmed by the guitarist of DEP after listening to their catalogue under duress.
Note - DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES DO WHAT I'M ABOUT TO TELL YOU HERE, OR YOU WILL GET STABBED!!!
Low on cash and prospects, I began taunting the bartenders by swinging my ATM card in the air and yelling "Where da fuck da pussy at?"
This drew a horde of habaneros out of their favelas and to my side.
"Where da ATM at homey?"
It was at this point that I got led by the arm by several of EricT's seasonal employees to the village's automated teller. I stood at the keypad for a good five minutes in a drunken haze, as Steve stood idly by fearing that we were both going to be stabbed upon moment of dispensing. By the Grace of Odin Almighty, the card was not responding to my cries.
I explained to the roughnecks that I had forgotten my password, and that there would be no tips in kind.
Seeing that I was broke, they went back to their business, sparing me the cochio to the gut for my impudent demeanor.
With a few centavos in hand we headed to the local strip club to soak in local culture. This gentleman's club (I use the term loosely, pun intended) consisted of two strippers, with only one having teeth. :zombie:
After watching Gumbo and Dumbo shake their stretch marks like a pinata, we voyaged back to the hotel, where I vomited profusely in to the camode. I slept like the dead until 4am, at which time I was awoken by our friend Adam who came in to the room smelling like pork products.
The End
But remaining in the confines of Mejico Norte wasn't enough, to truly outdo our buddy's European exploits, we ourselves needed to travel abroad, so onward we traversed towards the Rio Tephaulitcan, known to lay people as Rosarito. Now every Spring Break this place turns in to a dome of debauchery, with scantily clad cougars and bosom bearing bombshells exposing their estrogenic fruits to everyone's delight. What we were driving in to was anything but. Not only were there no other Americans in the entire town, but there were no visitors of any color, class, or creed to be seen! This only became apparent when dawn canvassed over the Mayan temples off in the great expanse.
WE ARE LEGEND!!!
An afternoon of shopping for sombreros, lucha libre mascaras, y boleros, left us quite parched. So we entered the largest hotel in the hacienda, known as "Rosarito Hotel" if memory serves me right. Our plan was to speak to the concierge and get a low down on the nightlife. An earlier walk through of the infamous Papas & Beers was anything but what was advertised.
So Adam (the vaginal venturer of the group) sees an amply fleshed socialite of corpulent character sitting alone at the bar sulking in her dismembered aspirations. A few minutes pass and I join the two at helm's gate. This is Mejico, so drinking anything but Tequila and Mexican beer will get you stabbed and thrown on top of a pack mule for subsequent mutilation at the nearby Mayan casino. I followed suit and asked for a shot of Jose Cuervo 1800 and a bottle of Sol.
After 4-5 rounds of tequila chased by Mexican beer in the span of 40 minutes, I departed from the lovebirds and met with the 3rd member of the triad... The Silent but Violent member known simply as "Steve".
"Where da fuck da pussy at?!?" I exclaimed!!
An off we went...
Never have I experienced anything in all my years. As we strolled down the strip in search of entertainment, we were accosted every 6 feet by bartenders who were practically paying us to go drink in their establishment. Like I said earlier, we were the only people present in what is occasionally a major tourist spot.
"20 beers for $10 dolla"
"24 beers for $8 dolla"
"All You can drink all night $20"
This was too good to be true. At one point a bartender was feeding me tequila from a bottle to bait me in. I drank heartedly, and continued on.
We intermittently stopped at this one S-Hole to take the Browns to the Superbowl, and purchased a couple alcohol laced libations in kind.
Off to the streets again...By this point I was walking as if I got ball rimmed by the guitarist of DEP after listening to their catalogue under duress.
Note - DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES DO WHAT I'M ABOUT TO TELL YOU HERE, OR YOU WILL GET STABBED!!!
Low on cash and prospects, I began taunting the bartenders by swinging my ATM card in the air and yelling "Where da fuck da pussy at?"
This drew a horde of habaneros out of their favelas and to my side.
"Where da ATM at homey?"
It was at this point that I got led by the arm by several of EricT's seasonal employees to the village's automated teller. I stood at the keypad for a good five minutes in a drunken haze, as Steve stood idly by fearing that we were both going to be stabbed upon moment of dispensing. By the Grace of Odin Almighty, the card was not responding to my cries.
I explained to the roughnecks that I had forgotten my password, and that there would be no tips in kind.
Seeing that I was broke, they went back to their business, sparing me the cochio to the gut for my impudent demeanor.
With a few centavos in hand we headed to the local strip club to soak in local culture. This gentleman's club (I use the term loosely, pun intended) consisted of two strippers, with only one having teeth. :zombie:
After watching Gumbo and Dumbo shake their stretch marks like a pinata, we voyaged back to the hotel, where I vomited profusely in to the camode. I slept like the dead until 4am, at which time I was awoken by our friend Adam who came in to the room smelling like pork products.
The End
