Seven a.m.

Hole in the wall on Piedras
You gotta start sometime.
I hate vodka. I hate the icepick headaches that are the signature feature of vodka hangovers. I hate not knowing that I’ve had too much till I get up off my barstool. I hate vodka’s lack of character, and the pretentious people who drop forty rats for a label on a bottle when the juice inside is indistinguishable from similar brands that sell for two thirds less. (read more)

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