Sunday, Bloggy Sunday

I awakened at 7 a.m. and delayed taking my glucose level because I feared the margaritas, nachos and a fruit plate the size of Carmen Miranda's hat from last night would tell a tale of excess.
Wanting to further stall, I delayed having coffee, too.
No coffee plus being up at 7 a.m. can only lead to one thing: going back to bed.
Now it's noonish, my glucose read a very healthy 105 and all I have to contemplate now is getting back on my bike and facing the kind of heat only Texas can provide.
Last night my pal Melly and I decided to go to Jacala Mexican restaurant for dinner and margaritas.
We got there and the sea of cars in the parking lot intimidated us so much, we high tailed it out of there in search of a less populated spot to eat and drink.
In San Antonio there's a Mexican restaurant every 500 feet or so. Not all serve margaritas though, and Melly
was like Joan Crawford on a road trip with an empty flask.
We settled for Taco Cabana. It's sort of dolled-up fast food place but they do have margaritas. Good ones.
So as we settled in, I spied a woman named Vivian behind the counter. She was a bartender at a lesbian bar I used to frequent in my salad days. She remembered me well and rustled up two $5 margaritas, for which she charged me $3.99. She's the manager there and apparently rank has it's privileges.
Then as I lauded her with compliments about her ascent into management, she actually said to me, "Hey, if you're lookin' to make some serious money, I can get you in here."
I smiled and said I already had a job I liked, then she said she'd come check on us in a little while.
As we started in on round two of our margaritas, Vivian sauntered over with a handful of VIP cards for us VIPs. Each card gives 10, 15, 20 then 25% discounts on subsequent visits. Since I have been there maybe twice in the last 12 years, she gave me enough VIP cards to provide me discounts for the next 50 years.
She gave Melly two cards, since she's just a new VIP by association.
I puffed up and told Melly I had friends in high places. She was duly impressed. Or drunk, it's hard to tell.
Afterwards we had intended to watch the video "Billy Elliot." Instead, a documentary on Anna Nicole Smith caught our eyes and we opted for that. That was followed by HBO's "Punany Poetry," where Black women waxed eloquently about their vaginas.
Taco Cabana, Anna Nicole and Black pussy poetry: another night of culinary and cultural distinction @ Chez Zipdrive.