Living in San Francisco has its ups and downs.
The ups? Well, living in one of the best damn cities in the world.
The downs? Rent, taxes, food, and hookers all cost so much more here. But what really ends up punishing my wallet the most is also the thing I love to do the most.
Well, maybe not the most. But I’m learning discipline. Little by little.
And penis dry heaves are lessons that teach themselves. But I digress.
Yes. That is what we call it now. Fap.
I needed a balance between $220 bar tabs (that I only remembered the first $70 of) and spraying Lysol into the cap and shooting it.
Yes. I just told you that I did that. You do know you are reading The Alcohol Enthusiast, right?
Let’s just say that I don’t curb my enthusiasm.
That’s why I turned to the Gate. The Royal Gate.
In your city it’s called such things as: “Eye Fuck” and “Rubbing Alcohol” and the cartoony yet foreboding “XXX.”
Look, this is the cheapest vodka I can get that’s still in a bottle made of glass. It’s $9.99 AND it’s Royal. I thought it might be a great way to save money by mixing it with Citrus Vitamin Water.
I thought it would be a good compromise. It was.
Of my consciousness.
And my bowels.
Not pictured: me. For three days.
Oh, right. Like you don’t shit all over yourself sometimes. The only reason you kept reading past “Royal Gate” was to see if the same thing had happened to me.
But, hey…the upside was this: I had only spent about 12 bucks on booze that night/weekend/week. I had about $81 dollars in my pocket that I hadn’t just pissed away on teeny Fernet shots and overpriced watered down vodka tonics. What to do with my sudden windfall?
I could just see a movie…
fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap fap.
Forget about saving money in this city. It’s for experts only. And I, dear friends, am an enthusiast, not an expert.