Searching for my lost shaker of salt...

Sometimes, I realize I'm a girl, and maybe I should start acting like one. When I go out, it's either beer or whisky for me. But Friday we went to Taste of the Danforth (where we stuffed our faces 4 hours straight, served by Mr. Silver himself at Mr. Greek.) Conversation led to Franny's maid. Her name is Margarita, which was much better than anything that we could've guessed. But all that Margarita talk made me thirsty. So I ordered one, then another. I can never resist the call of tequila. Ahhh, my kryptonite. I guess I wasn't too sloshed. But even though I was wearing a skirt, all made-up and coiffed, I still felt strange drinking a frozen margarita in a fancy glass. Next time, I'll just take a pint of Keiths.