
Jing really really wanted to ride the oxen, but a large helping of bird crap on the back of the nearest one parried his attempt
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The fountain of which the tour guide was uncomfortably insistent that we take pictures.
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A shoddy picture of the bartender guy. High point: his mention of Bacardi 151, Jing's knowing chuckle, and bardtender's acknowledgement of Jing's appreciation for the product.
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How did this creepy-ass guy ever sell any rum?
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Lots of rum.
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Jing's mini-movie-making is interrupted by the distracting tourist yells of "Hey Jane and Harry, from Puerto Rico!!1"
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Finally, Jing gets down to business.
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Someone gave the fur bat a Mexican hat. Jing and I briefly considered adding other sophomoric appendages, but decided we were too mature. This decision was hastened by the tour guide's return to see us out of the building. (1c)
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Towers Of Distillation (And Sorcery)
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I'm immensely curious why it was worth the effort to bring this pipe above ground, only to have it plunge back in a few feet later, with no fittings or other means of access to be seen.
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Jing enhances his street cred in the gift shop.
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Returned home, and disappointed by the lack of openity offered us by Willy's Pinchos, we decide to make our own.
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Mmm, pan sobao
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All this eating of grilled chicken on skewers leads to experimentation with shotgunning, as it so often does. Jing practices.
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The preparations are made. Jing provides moral support.
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Jing prepares his own in turn.
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The holes made, it is time to commence.
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Bernie fails miserably. (1c)
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But Jing did admirably well.
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Lamentation
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In the spirit of frat-boy-ism, Jing attempts to complete the ritual.
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He fails, but it leaves its mark.
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