“So full of shit, diarrhoea for fingers”
Such great lines from that redneck cowboy rousting anthem, “Beers, Steers and Queers.”
I was in a bar tonight. The “drink as many as you can for free” kind. This is worlds away from the “drink as many as you like for free” kind. The biggest difference is that in the former, you stop liking after about the first half-drink. You switch to spirits and mixer. Sure, they pour a whole mess of nasty spirit brewed from distilled fermented cervical smear leftovers into the cocktail, but the mixers. Well the mixers are all derived from the same base (dental hygeinist mouth-rinse), mixed with gloopy emetic syrups, asked for by colour, not by flavour. The resultant concoction hits you in the guts with a few uncalled for shots to the kidneys, and you don’t feel like to many more, but hey, it’s drink as much as you can, not as much as you like, so you fix your guts with some gaffer tape and pour away.
Anyway, I was in a bar tonight. And I figured out that I was going to be in Texas in a week’s time. And I know absolutely diddley squat about the place apart from the aforementioned “Beers Steers and Queers” lyrics. Once the dentist mouthwash had drained from my oesophagus, I figured it was two weeks away, but gosh darn, this is what I know about Texas:
- one ex-US resident told me to avoid it because the (allegedly) good guys (men in shiny boots with handguns) kill people they suspect of being bad guys
- someone else told me to stay away from bad guys (men in cowboy boots with handguns) who would make me squeal like several pigs in a pig choir rehearsing for pig Christmas carol season
- someone who lived there told me it was nice and had decent weather
- someone told me it was the land of opportunity and that it was hard to get Tabasco on your sandwich
- someone told me that they were really excited to help me find a property there, and then directed me to someone else (I presume real estate agent is an alias for lying two-faced codsucker in American)
- oh and apparently Mr. Shrub used to be in charge
HELP! CAN ANYONE TELL ME ANYTHING ABOUT TEXAS Only thirteen days until I touch down in Houston (as in “Houston, we have a problem”). And if you know any rich people who need their Ferraris walking in Austin, please let me know.