10/27/2022 0 Comments Spine tattoos for women![]() ![]() This highball is one of those ones that has flavors that come to you in waves. Combine the rums and syrup over ice in a smallish Collins glass.Aggressively bubbly seltzer water – I’m loyal to Topo Chico Mineral Water Sumac simple syrup (which you’ll find just below the recipe for the flavored rums)ģ-4 oz. Chili-infused rum (see just below that)ġ oz. Part of being a kahuna is defying expectations.ġ oz. Given the term “kahuna”, you’d be forgiven for assuming that this drink would involve pineapple juice, and probably a tiki mug. Fifteen, right?” – Fern nods – “And you’re in a bar in a strip mall at two in the afternoon on a Tuesday. Fern is pretty sure that he’s only a moment away from telling her an achingly bad joke. He’s dressed pretty nicely – he’s wearing a nice shirt and a vest. He looks old, in the way that everybody over the age of forty looks old. He’s got the musketeer beard and mustache thing going, but if he is a musketeer, he hasn’t pulled a sword on anyone in awhile. “Should I take him a drink or something?”įern (because that’s her name – Fern) nods in gratitude and makes her way to the guy at the table. She squints and can sort of make out a figure in the corner. “You want The Kahuna.” He points to a table in the back of the bar. I’ve got this weird situation and I’ve heard that there’s a guy… um, yeah…” The bartender continues to stand patiently, still polishing a martini glass. “Um.” Now that she’s here, she’s not really sure where to begin. He still doesn’t say anything, but not in an intimidating way. She takes a deep breath and walks up to the bar. She thought he’d have scowled at her, or carded her, or maybe even ignored her, but he just stands patiently, looking at her and absentmindedly polishing a glass. The bartender eyes her, but doesn’t say anything. If anything, it smells faintly like… old books? This place doesn’t smell like smoke – that’s a good sign. She opens the door and pauses a moment to get her bearings. But she really needs help and this is where she’s heard she can find the guy to help her. It’s not one of those hipster speakeasys that she’s heard of – it’s in a strip mall, for crying out loud. She’s not even sure this is the right place there’s no sign on the door. She’s not really old enough to be in a bar. These are three people I never got to be: The point here being, of course, that you never know where a decision might take you, and if you are like me, you will be burdened with regret of all the people you never got to be. They marry and have three children, one of whom goes on to become the first Prime Minister of the newly independent Republic of Minnesota. He looks so ridiculous that his girlfriend decides that she can do better than him and leaves him for someone who actually is better. The guy is being such a jerk that you feel compelled to dump Hollandaise on his head. In the other, you overhear the couple arguing in the next booth. You are so successful that you become wealthy and powerful enough to buy that ’68 Barracuda that you’ve always wanted and end up dying horribly in a fiery wreck, far too young. In one, the extra bacon pulls you out of the funk you’ve been in and gives you the courage to stand up to your boss, who is so impressed that she puts you in charge of the Patel account. So, there’s a theory that you’re probably familiar with, that every time you make a decision – whether to order an extra side of bacon with your omelet, or a dish of Hollandaise, for instance – two branches of reality are created: ![]()
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