ANYWAY. We went out. We did the center city park like you're a lab rat thing. Turn, nothing, turn, look, turn...maybe...nope, turn, keep looking, curse, turning, looking, METER! But we did not keel over and die at the end of that. We went and stuffed ourselves with food straight outta Mexican heaven! If that does, in fact, exist. What do Mexicans believe in anyway? Chupacabras. And I was bummed actually, no Filet of Chupacabra on the menu at El Vez. Kind of a bummer. Chupa Loin? Nope. Nothin.
So we ate amazingly flavorful Mexican entrees, preceded by Macho Nachos (which I took the reins on), tacked on some fried ice cream at the end and enjoyed a pitcher of Jamaican margaritas the whole. damn. tasty. time. It was great! The wind chill was not. You know it's cold out if my girl is wearing jeans on a date. Which I don't get anyway, considering you never see the legs on a dinner date! Give me a top. A sexy top! Maybe a nice plunging neckline, some foxy form-fitting fabric... just a hot top! Who cares about the bottom?! It's hidden under all that awesome food! That's all the guy wants... everything, right there. Sexy chick- kickass food right underneath. Wham. Bam! The ultimate 2-hit combo.
So yes, the date was splendid. We were so stuffed we nixed more booze (a la Lindsay Lohan) and hopped on 95 back to the East of North. An excellent decision. An excellent sleep. An excellent show this morning. Life is good goin' into the weekend!
P.S. No, I will not be trying Simon Kirke's drumming tip. He just wants to see my balls.
