I was deep in the middle an internal struggle between playing a Chamillionaire track and Nelly’s biopic Air Force Ones when one of my roommate’s friends* burst into the house with a $2 Out the Door of Inca Kola.  “What mixes with this?”  I grabbed for a Fat Tire.  Magic didn’t ensue but a pile of Mexican fast food, Sour Patch Kids and stomach acid did.

* hooker clearly hates me