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It is said that “Montezuma’s Revenge” is the painfully explosive diarrhea that has those who suffer from it while traveling through Mexico begging the jungle gods for the sweet release of an Aztec sacrificial dagger to the chest cavity. That is incorrect.
Montezuma’s true revenge is tequila, because Montezuma is an angry ghost-king, Hernán Cortés was a huge dick, and tequila is straight poison. More specifically, it’s the aftermath of tequila that is Montezuma’s true revenge. You think having your colon turned into a firehose blasting swamp water is punishment? We’re Americans, dammit. This country is running on a constant intake of Starbucks and Chipotle, which is to say we give ourselves breathtaking diarrhea like four times a week already. There are people in this country who haven’t shit solid in so long that if they did they’d freak the fuck out and think they had a rectal tumor jangling around up there.
The tequila hangover is the white man’s true punishment for the rape and pillaging of Mexico nearly 500 years ago. (Which, by the way, seems sort of unfair since that’s already what Montezuma was doing to Mexico before we got there.) Waking up in a pile of your own piss and vomit, next to someone who, by appearance alone, you know gave you herpes, as you see a half dozen missed calls from your parents, your credit card(s) are nowhere to be found, and you have a voicemail you quickly hang up on after you hear the words, “This is Detective…” –- that is the price we pay for the sins of the past.
And you know what? Fuck it. Pour me another marg. Give me another shot of tequila. Because there is no Valtrex for FOMO. Tequila is toxic. Even top shelf tequila tastes like gutter water and rubbing alcohol that someone ran through a Brita filter. Michael Imperioli and Kiefer Sutherland are full of shit. They’re not drinking tequila straight. I’d have an easier time believing Sutherland was drinking actual human blood while shooting “The Lost Boys.” But tequila is also the night’s greatest social lubricant.
For me, margaritas are my preferred method of ingesting tequila. They’re refreshing, they’re delicious, and you don’t realize you’re drunk until you stand up for the first time to take piss one of infinity and all the tequila you’ve been drinking kicks you in the head with the force of a goalkeeper taking a goal kick while a thousand invisible Spanish voices shout that you’re a puto. I will be drinking roughly a dozen this weekend. Close second is a Texas Tea, which to my knowledge is mostly only available at the local Austin bars Cain and Abel’s and Abel’s on the Lake. I’m pretty sure it’s legitimately just a Long Island Iced Tea, but also with tequila. Two will get you irrevocably drunk. Three will make you monster better wrangled by animal control officers using those long poles with loops on the end than by a regular police officer. Either way, in both cases, the sugar from the drinks help keep my corpse animated for the night, so they’re great.
Have some shots of tequila tonight. Fuck Fireball. Fuck whatever bomb you’re ordering. Super extra fuck pickle shots (they’re poured straight from a hobo’s penis sticking through a glory hole behind the bar). Get serious, and get tequila. It’s what our forefathers took shots of before people figured out how to make alcohol taste less awful. Yeah, you’ll pay for it in the morning as you wallow in regret and human fluids. But whatever, fuck it. That’s tequila’s motto anyway..