Uh, does gobbling a handful of somebody else's french fries count as having dinner?
I didn't think so. That's why you see this array of powerful beverages, along with their most unnecessary accoutrements. It's like a lineup in the Blaggard's Pub holding cell. The scotch here on the left was mine, but the tequila seemed so exotic and enticing that I made the switch as soon as I could. (Which was pretty soon.) I can tell you here and now that Patrón Silver really rocks.
This was actually taken at my work going-away party. I simply had to leave in order to focus on cooking for Margy. The girl needs to eat!
Case in point: Blaggard's refused to cook for Margy on this evening. Kitchen closed, blah blah blah. Such shoddy treatment, after so many graceful offers of fine, fine tequila. So we had a grape fruit roll -- a gift from our pal Johnny -- on the train ride home.
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