BIRTHDAYS TO REGRET

A fellow pipe smoker posted a picture of something dubbed Magic Penis Wine. The Chinese label reads 神鞭酒 (蛤蚧雄睾酒珍品). And, while I have never actually sampled this famous product -- good for your penis, and also containing penises -- I know about it. And will wager that it goes great with a French dinner. Order it when you have something to celebrate.
A birthday, or whatever. Stupend-o-riffic!
Gecko testicular vigour liquor.
Cheers!


Today at work the subject we discussed during a break was what we did after we turned twenty one. One of my colleagues got drunk, and woke up in Honduras. That same year he slapped a cop. Which did not end well.
He may have also snorted a lot of coke back then.
He can't quite remember everything.

The redheaded shiksa (she turned 21 a few months ago) recently went to a real bar, and blew sixty dollars on beer. Because this is the Bay Area, that very likely equates to three pints of artisanal brew, or barely two, if you were to also have an order of Spanish Tofu-Frito with Heirloom Garlic Sage Aioli.

I realized that I haven't turned twenty one years of age yet.
Both of them have lived so much more than I have.


When I turned twenty one, la cuisine précieuse et prétentieuse had not been invented yet. Our style of fried tofu was mahogany plank, and we had never heard of aioli OR heirloom garlic. Just mayonnaise.

Movies were still black and white.
There was no craft beer.



But Magic Penis Wine already already existed.
So the Dark Ages were well over.




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