I had a couple buddies in town from Texas this past couple of days, playing a mariachi festival up in the Reno area. They figured while in Nevada, look up the Spunk for a good time. Not that kinda good time, I’m not that kind of boy.
We had a blast just drinkin’ and hangin’ and boasting about who had the biggest penis, that kind of deal. You know what those Tejanos are like after a few bottles of Tecate. Everything’s a fuckin’ competition. I’ll tell you one thing. Mexicans might not be the Amazons of modern man but they sure have disproportionately large dongers. Not that I looked. Well I might have peeked. A guy’s gotta know what he’s up against. Again, not literally. Tony Spunk doesn’t swing that way. Not that there’s anything wrong with it.
The second night the guys joined me on stage at the Pink Flamingo for a little Mexican themed hoedown, complete with sombreros and full bolero jacketed goodness. One thing. Who here knew a sombrero brim could hold a sixpack? My grandfather on my father’s side was from Ancuna, Mexico. He used to tell me a sombrero could be used for anything from potty training to berry picking to holding a giant margarita. He was a little fucked from too much tequila however, so I took that with a grain of salt. Margarita salt naturally.
Anyway those guys leave today (vibes to Tito, El Lobo and Esteban!) and my fridge is full of Tex Mex, so I’m gonna go, eat a load, dump a load and get ready for tonight’s show. Incidentally, my wanger’s doing better now, thanks for your concern. Peace out!