THIS HURTS

You know of course why it's called a "stream of consciousness", don't you?
'Cause it's like a sewer.
Truer words, dude, truer words.

Dildo Bob was in fine form. Gibberant.  Tried telling me that Asians had never been discriminated against.  Unlike blacks (perhaps) and gays (oh definitely).  This because the sexual preference tee-shirt of the Vietnamese American bartender seemed to his mind to indicate a dislike of Caucasians.
He felt insulted - Viet Am ero-pride by a straight gentleman, what is this world coming to?

I tried explaining that a 'Caucasian' was, as everyone knows, Kahlua, Vodka, and cream. 
No dice.

I had forced Vu to make me Henry Dargers all evening, and consequently was not in prime condition myself.
Double shot Bourbon. Dash Grenadine, drops Angostura, over ice. Finish with ginger ale and a cherry.
Strong enough for a pervert, mild enough for a little lady.

When I explained the backstory behind the drink, Dildo Bob didn't get it at all. Threatened to write a fifteen thousand page novel about his own life. Oh lord.

There's a reason he's called "Dildo Bob".

He's a big pain in the sphincter.

Avoid Karaoke bars.


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