"Where's Chris?" I ask Neena, whose boyfriend disappeared without warning 20 minutes ago. "He's dropping the Browns off at the Super Bowl," she replies with the attitude that can only come from a woman who shares a bathroom with her live-in boyfriend. We're at Sherlock's (1952 W. Gray, 713-521-1881) on a Monday night, and the place is filled with smoke, beautiful women and a band that's playing a steady acoustic stream of 94.5 FM modern rock hits. Neena's smoking a cigarette and wearing a T-shirt that says "Who needs big tits..." on the front and "...when you have an ass like this?" on the back. No lie: Her mom bought it for her, a fact that I find hilarious and keep bringing up every five minutes or so, with true drunken amnesiac style. No one shares in my enthusiasm. But it's been that kind of night. Between two Sneaky Fuck shots, several beers and drinks stronger than Of Montreal's desire to sell out, the evening has quickly deteriorated into the sort of event that hinges on one question: "Am I going to puke, or am I not going to puke?" Realizing this, I soon get the feeling that I might be taking my own personal trip to the bathroom, but not in support of Cleveland. Suddenly, the band breaks with their '90s flow and goes straight into "The Promise" by When In Rome. I'm forced to make a mad dash for the toilet, the night's question answered with certainty.
1/2 oz. Skyy vodka
1/2 oz. DeKuyper Watermelon Pucker Schnapps
1 can Red Bull
Combine Skyy and Watermelon Pucker in shot glass. Pour Red Bull into a pint glass. Drop shot glass into pint glass, and think of the right words to say.
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