Day 319: Make Margaritas

Frankin-fine

     I'll be 21 pretty soon here (3 months and 18 days to be exact, but hey, who's counting?). I'm not very big on the whole party scene, but I have wanted to try a margarita for quite some time now. They always seemed so relaxing, like the lemonade of the adult beverage community. Mouse and I had to get Kevin, who has recently gradated to 'of age' status to buy most of the ingredients. We gathered the margarita salt and lemon juice (and some ice cream, frozen pizza, and a candy bar) from the grocery store as Kevin handled the grown-up transactions. At Kevin's house, we heated up our dinners and did some last minute research on the drink. We measured nothing and it showed. There was no method to the madness. We threw in splashes of this and that and gauged our amounts by gut instinct. I had high hopes for the drink before I took a strong whiff, but that smell definitely took my excitement down a few pegs. It reeked like a tart lemon Warhead candy. The three of us traded concerned looks. We knew that we did a piss poor job of following the instructions, but now it was time to enjoy our piss poor drinks. We each tried our margarita and immediately agreed that it was terrible. It tasted like biting into a salty crab apple or tart lemon right after you brushed your teeth. As of yet, I'm not sure if it is our questionable cooking skills to blame, or if all margaritas taste that bad. I'm sort of leaning towards a little bit of both.

Clueless