Location: Strip Mall Sports Bar/Home
Libation (Quantity): Frozen margaritas (3 pints), red wine (most of two bottles), possibly post-wine beers (undetermined)
Last Sunday it was 80 degrees here in the State Capital. Around 5:00, the Mrs. suggested we go sit on a patio somewhere and drink margaritas. We did this for a while. After arriving back at the house with half a package on from the pint-glass margaritas, I brought out the pound of stone crab claws we had bought earlier. As we don’t normally buy shellfish, I didn’t have proper crab-cracking utensils. A natural substitute seemed to be a pair of needle nose pliers. I cracked each one in the middle, put them all on a big plate, and sat down on the couch. Half a bottle of wine went down during the cracking process.
That’s when the war started. Crab isn’t easy to eat sober, but these little bastards were simultaneously delicious and absolutely impossible to remove from their shells. I went back at them with the needlenoses and a little mini-fork. I was so hungry, but at this rate I had a better chance of filling up on wine, which the Mrs. had stopped drinking after half a glass. I took a quick break to open the second bottle, and then got back at the claws with my hands. This worked well enough for a few minutes, until one of them attacked my finger. The picture doesn’t do it justice since it was taken several days after the incident, but it hurt like a bitch. If you’ll notice, it’s right where my index finger bends, and I do a lot of typing. I gave up, kept drinking, and threw the remains of the claws into the kitchen trash.
Needless to say, the next day at work I felt like pre-rehab Robert Downey Jr, if he was dating Maggie Gyllenhall’s character from Secretary. To make it worse, when I got home the entire place smelled like an unairconditioned San Fernando Valley porn shoot because of the trash. There is a reason stoners just order pizza.