THE TIPSY CLOVER'S JAPANESE CAR BOMB
Troy Fields

THE TIPSY CLOVER'S JAPANESE CAR BOMB

As soon as we sat down at El Patio, the waiter brought out six pitchers of blue margaritas and I knew we were all about to die. The "blues," with their secret recipe, are legendary and not to be fucked around with. We were a group of 11 thirtysomething guys on a bachelor party/dinner, and let's face it — we can't attack the rim like we could in our twenties. The wheels would definitely come off. For some, there would be much explaining to the wife on Sunday morning why X smelled like Y and "WTF were you doing so noisily in the kitchen at 3 a.m.!?" For others, there would be ill-advised text messages and wondering how/why you woke up in the garage. By10 p.m., Married Guy No. 3 was babbling incoherently to nobody in particular. By 10:15 p.m., we were a party of nine. Right on schedule. Feeling invincible, we floated next door to Tipsy Clover (2416 Brazos, 713-524-0782) for more drinks, including some Japanese Car Bombs. Booom! We were now a party of six. At 12:30 a.m., a limo appeared and spirited us away to a bar across town. Married Guy No. 3 was still with us (!). The song on the radio was declared the greatest of all time. It wasn't, but we sang it at full volume. Right on schedule. By 2 a.m., we were down to four weary warriors begging for mercy. Taxi!

2 ounces sake

8 ounces Guinness Stout

Info

Tipsy Clover

Drop shot of sake into glass of beer. Enjoy. Congrats, Tommy and Jessica.

stirredandshaken@rocketmail.com

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