Entering the bar, he yells, “I’m gon’ get me a Piece of Ass tonight—ewwweee!” This is because the cocktail type of ass is the only type of ass he can get. Then he’s over at the jukebox, playing—you guessed it—“Free Bird,” while subtly trying to grind himself up against your leg in a drunken stupor. I mean, amaretto and Southern Comfort with sour mix? You’d have to be born in a barn in the deep south to think that’s a good enough drink to get you some. In fact, the drink isn’t a piece of ass, it tastes like someone’s ass—not that I’ve had it on multiple occasions or anything. Eewwweee!
Buttery Nipple (Bailey’s Irish Cream, Butterscotch Schnapps)
This is one drink, and name, I can stand behind. Not that I’m a big fan of having butter poured or rubbed on my nipples or anything. I much prefer Extra Virgin Olive Oil, or as the dirty, drunk, whore Rachel Ray likes to say, EVOO. It’s much easier on the nipple than butter, and does wonders for moisturizing the breast area. And, you can understand why the drink has its name. The shot is smooth and creamy, and while taking about six of them one winter evening while snow was blustering outside, I found that there was more than just butter being melted.
Fuzzy Dick (Kahlua, Gran Marnier, coffee, whipped cream)
In theory, this drink should be a hit during the winter, say, après ski, or when snow is blanketing your city streets. But there’s something about the idea of a man heavily layered in thermals, sweaty from a day of skiing or snow shoveling, with little to no air circulating through his genital area, that doesn’t mix with the phrase “fuzzy dick.” I mean, is it fuzzy like that three-week-old grapefruit on my desk is fuzzy? Or fuzzy like a warm sweater? Cause that’s either mold or hair, and that’s nothing I want to wrap my lips around. Fuzzy dick gives me a very bad, very long-lasting mental image.
But the drink is good. And leaves you with a whipped cream-wrapped mouth that looks like you might have had your lips around that fluffy penis.
