Corporate Whoredom

Let's see how many of you are screaming "bloody sellout!" at the monitor by the end of this.

I'm currently sitting in SFO's brand-spankin' new Terminal 2, waiting to go back home to the medical library. The terminal itself is well-organized and just chock-full of that Bay-Area-smug-hubris that we know and love. Holla, Virgin America: slick purple lighting? Personal satellite TV and games?  Actual leg room? Welcome to the Mile High Nightclub. As Tom Haverford would say, "I have two questions for you. One, are you ready for the investment opportunity of a lifetime? And two, do any of you have pacemakers or a history of epilepsy?" (Because you know I'm gonna be looping the music video to 'Ye's "All Of The Lights" over and over while on that plane.)



Every time I come back to the Bay Area, several inevitable events occur:
1) I eat an In-N-Out Double-Double with grilled onions on the way home from the airport
2) I gain 3-4 pounds by the time I leave California
3) I end up spending way more time with my friends than with my family

Of course, it bugs the crap out of my mom when I seemingly prioritize my friends over her. Considering that it's Mother's Day weekend, I chose to park my butt at home and wait on her hand and foot.

...except for Friday. Forget everything else, because I gotta get down on Friday. Preach, Rebecca Black.

Thanks to the generosity of my friends, I started off the day at 4pm at my home-away-from-home, Beta Lounge. It certainly didn't help that Beta is currently carrying the Deschutes Hop Henge IPA, coming in at a sloshing 9%ABV. After downing some irresponsible amount of that IPA and enjoying some excellent Salvadoran for dinner, I got drunkenly dragged to the place I despise most in all of the city: Kip's. If you've never been to Kip's, don't. This place is beyond dive. It's best described as a place where everything is kind of sticky, but you're not sure why. The people are shady, the place is gross, and two out of four times I've been there, fights broke out. So I stay the hell away from Kip's with the same fervor with which Osama crapped on American patriotism. (Too soon?)

...except for Friday. You remember when you registered for college and you had to go through that stupid AlcoholEdu thing? Remember how they taught you about poor decision-making as a result of getting schwasted? No? Good.

No sooner had we stepped inside did we realize that the Hornitos girls were making their rounds. If you're a frequent purveyor of bars, surely you've seen these promotional superfoxes, looking gorgeous, peddling alcohol, giving away free stuff, looking gorgeous, generally promoting a great time, and looking gorgeous. God bless you, Kip's.

By the time I woke up in a daze on Saturday morning, drooling on KellyBluebook's couch, I realized that I had a temporary Hornitos tattoo on my wrist, a receipt from Sumo Grub (a heart-stopping joint in Berkeley where literally EVERYTHING is deep-fried), and a slick Hornitos shot glass.

Let's play Steve Jobs for a second and do some design/aesthetic analysis:

Cornucopia of blehhhh

It's got the horn theme to accompany the Hornitos logo design - nice. But...wait. You can't actually set it down once there's liquid in it. Well that's kind of dumb. So what do you do? I guess you'll have to pour out the liquid or...drink it.

What was once sheer design idiocy suddenly became marketing genius.

Hope you all had a pleasant Mother's Day. For those of you out there with fierce Tiger Mothers, a bit of advice. Just because you'll never be able to please her no matter how hard you try, it doesn't mean that you shouldn't bother. Remember, those Asian Son/Daughter karma points are constantly building against you. You'll never be in the black, but it's in your best interest to make sure the scales aren't tipped too far by the time you croak.