2.10.10

Dirty Hooker vs. Apple Pie

I decided to break my usual "out once a month" rule and hit up a friend's goodbye party last night. Because she's such a cutie, I made her a Bon Voyage cake. It took the majority of yesterday, but it ended up turning out grandly (I subscribe to the 'winging it' strategy, so there have been many cake wrecks, which you should check out because there are some epic baked-good failures out there aside from my own). Here's what I made (she had a canoe-rental company this summer).


Moving on...

The party was fun, although I wasn't really able to hang out with everyone because the majority of party-attenders were smoking four thousand cigarettes in an open garage and I thought I.was.going.to.die (tobacco and I don't get along). A witty-and-pretty-blonde friend and I hung out in the back shed to escape the oxygen-deficient garage environment (it was raining really hard, all night long. boo) until it was time to head to the bar, which is where the night starts to get a little fuzzy.

I do, however, vividly remember our server talking us into getting the worst shot ever. Now, this particular bar has an AMAZING little shot called "apple pie" and it's delicious (because it really does taste like apple pie! (mmm..pie). As soon as the non-garage-smokers and I got to The Original Grace O'Malley's (no offense, Toronto, but you clearly stole this bar's concept...although I do like the addition of the large fake tree that you added for ambiance) we went straight for the bartender who creates the wondrous concoction. Several slices later, we were at a booth and a server came over to see if we needed anything. She saw that we were all about the cinnamony-but-not-burny-in-any-way shots and said that if we liked that one, we'd love a "dirty hooker." (interesting side note: looks like prostitution may be decriminalized in Canada, so the server's suggestion had appropriate timing)
The name sold us and we ordered a round. She came back to our table a few moments later with yellow-y looking liquid (not a good start) and put them in front of us. We cheers-ed, threw 'em back...and then literally (figuratively) died.

It.
Was. 
AWFUL!!!

Literally, the worst thing that's ever been in my mouth (OK, maybe not that bad, but just thinking about it now is almost enough to have me rush into the bathroom). I can't even accurately describe The Worst Shot Of Life, but it definitely had airs of cough syrup and rancid bananas.

Now, this server knew that the bar had been set pretty high, as all we'd been ordering were the mouth-watering-pseudo-hot-from-the-oven pie shots, so why would she have suggested a could-actually-make-me-upchuck substitute? It wasn't even almost the same! None of us liked it - at all (who would? could? it was SO BAD!) and she even stuck around to watch our faces or horror and disgust as our taste buds tried to rush the exit doors of our tongues to escape being introduced to the dirty hooker. After the gross-ness had (slightly) subsided, she just walked away! No apology, no explanation, no complimentary sorry-for-the-disaster-that-I-sold-you apple-pie shots. 

Side Story: When we'd first arrived, we had to hit the bank machine by the inside door and turned the corner to find two substantially-armored-out police officers. I'd completely lost my ability to have internal thoughts  by the time we'd left the party, and the officers didn't seem too pleased that they'd "Obviously, done something really stupid to get stuck with bar-duty on a Friday night." Turns out that they had to patrol all of the bars in the area, yet were conveniently absent when I was thinking about pursuing Fraud charges against our server for her "swamp land in Florida" shot description/recommendation. 

Maybe the officer's non-presence was a good thing though, as spending the night in the drunk tank would have sucked (as I was "positive" that I couldn't get arrested for being drunk in public as long as I stayed "inside" the bar and therefore wasn't "scared" to talk to them about the crime-of-the-century). I feel positively wretched this morning and I blame that dirty hooker. Nothing that a cheesburger can't fix, though.

Mmm...cheeseburger(s). 


5 comments:

Janet Dillon Robinson said...

Wow.. rancid banana. That sounds life threatening. Seriously, how rude for her to not say anything.

Now I want an apple pie shot... and a cheeseburger.

Jessi said...

I love apple pie shots!

And you're right about cheeseburgers fixing hangovers.

You're cake was super cute btw.

jennie said...

Thank you for the validation, Janet! We really thought the least she could have done was apologize for the blunder (and the cheeseburger was delicious).

jennie said...

Haha Jessi, we posted at the same time! Thanks for the cake-liment (new word, I'm trying it out).

jennie said...

and yes - apple pie shots are the BEST!