Last night, a couple of my best pals and I went to this wonderfully cheap Mexican place called Monterray's that has 99 cent margaritas on Mondays. Believe it. This place is conveniently located between a Wal-Mart and a store that sells the most awful clothes I've ever seen. They honestly look like some terrible clothing-hybrid of Tammy Faye's face and a zoo-keeper uniform, if you can even imagine (please don't).
Anyway, our favorite waiter, Jose, brought out our delightful tequila cocktails and as he placed them on the table, I couldn't help noticing the CLAW MARKS all over his arms. In my mind, there were a few possible explanations for this.
1. Cock fighting. A good old-fashioned past-time with no social stigmas or illegality whatsoever!
2. Poor Jose is sooo emo. It's just a phase, buddy. We all know being 15 (or 43?) sucks a lot, but eventually the acne will fade and you'll find a pretty senorita to love you for you.
3. See the last few lines in the Amy Winehouse posting below.
Yikes! Oh, and if you're wondering, I had a chicken taco and it was muy bien.