September 10, 2004

No promises

… because I am supposed to be working, although as usual I don’t have a great deal to do…
Maybe there shall be beverages this afternoon.
Oh, and let’s make them all american drinks, to get Stuart used to the idea.


17 thoughts on “No promises

  1. But everybody in their right mind knows American beer is rubbish. Can’t I have an over-priced exported European beer, like the unrivalled Smadny Mnich? (Only pennies in Slovakia, an hour or so from where I sit…)

  2. Southern Comfort, dash of lime, ice.
    And a Guinness… to celebrate the .. er.. proud heritage of Irish immigrants in America…

  3. Oh – um, American drinks? Um, er (thinks) – can I have a cup of coffee with exceptionally complex instructions, like you see them ordering in American drama series and comedies? Oh, you know, something like “tall skinny frothy mocha with extra sultanas, hold the anchovies, to go”.
    And if you’re doing bar snacks, some artichoke-flavoured crisps, please. I’ve suddenly got a hankering for them. Can’t imagine why.

  4. Blue Hawai’ian, s’il te plait.
    That’s Smirnoff Blue, ideally drunken in Hawai’i (playground of the Americans). Allegedly.
    Ka na oi.

  5. Seeing as I’m on antibiotics, I’ll have a glass of water. But it’s got to be American, so it’s actually more like a WAAAAAATER!!! YEEEEEEHAAAAAA!!!!!

  6. It’ll have to be a pint of amber then, given that’s the nearest they get to proper beer 😉
    Actually, a pint of black and tan from the Manhattan Beach Brewing Company which, whilst being on the wrong coast, at least has a relevant word in its name. And it reminds me of the, erm, extended lunch I had there a couple of years back.

  7. In honour of Stuart and Krissa, and because Mark and Steph are a bad influence when it comes to cocktails, I’ll have a raspberry Manhattan, please.

  8. Tea please, because it damn well ought to be an American drink. With some of that lovely caffeinated sugar I found in Las Vegas two years ago.

  9. A water, please.
    No, I said a water.
    WART. URR.
    Oh, sorry, you’re American. So gimme a WARDER, wontcha?
    No, I think you’ll find I DID say so in the first place, actua… oh, never mind.
    (Is it just me who has had these daft conversations in the States? And don’t even get me started on the time I had to ask for BADDERIES…)

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