Pajarete

About 3 weeks ago at work, me and my co-workers got on the topic of drinking raw cow milk. I don’t know how exactly we got on that discussion but it ended with me being invited to a spot by a co-worker where we could consume some raw milk.

A couple of weeks later we were finally able to meet up on an early Sunday morning. We drove to a regular looking house in North Las Vegas. I mean, just from the front you wouldn’t be expecting it to house cows, goats, roosters, and chickens.

I parked my car across the street, and when we opened the wide swinging doors that leads to the backyard, that’s when it felt like I got transported into a 3rd world country. All the paths went from pavement to a soft dirt road. There was even a bull/cow horns stuck atop a wooden post with fresh blood dripping down the side. The air smelled exactly how a farm would smell. I loved every moment of it.

Towards the middle of the backyard there were a lot of shacks. In one of them there was a lady behind a counter, and in front of her were different flavored powders, and a tall bottle of clear hard alcohol. My co-worker gave her $8, and she gave us two cups. I scooped a lot of the chocolate powder, and poured about 3 shots worth in my cup, then it was onto the next shack where the cow was at.

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There was already some people in front of us waiting for their cups to be filled and while watching the guy milk the cow I didn’t expect the milk to come out the udder so strong. I was also surprised that there wasn’t very many flies around. As soon as it was my turn, I handed the guy my cup, he filled it up, handed it back, and there I was looking at a nice warm thick creamy cup of chocolate milk infused with some hard alcohol.

IMG_20150816_082542The first cup and a half was from a cow, the second cup I got goat milk. I really couldn’t tell you the difference between the two milks because both times I added flavored powders to it but I can tell you both were really thicker than the store bought milk in the jugs. The only thing that kind of threw me off in the very beginning was that the milk was warm, I’ve always had cold milk so drinking it warm was kind of different.

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I had 2 1/2 cups total and was hella buzzed before noon. It was hella delicious, and I’d do it again, hopefully some time very soon.

Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!

First of all, I really don’t like going to strip clubs.

Being in a dark room with a naked girl dancing in front of me isn’t appealing anymore. It’s the sad realization that the girl is only messing with me for my money. I don’t know how some people can keep going back to be lied to like that.

Anyways, I ended up at a Larry Flynt’s Hustler Club with my homeboys Walter and Stephen. They’re usually there on Sundays cause it’s free happy hour drinks/food from 8pm to Midnight. I haven’t seen them for a while now and wanted to get out the house, so I tagged along with them.

The night started off decent. Kept knocking back Crown Apple + 7up, plus plenty of some citrus vodka shots. Homeboys also ate the in-house pizza (Although it was free, I didn’t trust it, plus carbs).

Kept drinking and started getting past the point of no return at some side bar. Then this one stripper “falls” into my lap. We go through the whole introduction process, I say I’m from The Bay and she’s from LA. She notices my SF Giants lanyard, and then she starts talking about the “Los Doyers” (Her words not mine). Now the conversation is back and forth banter bout our baseball rivalry and she seems to know her stuff too. Everything seems cool til we’re interrupted by the DJ calling her to the dance floor, so before she leaves she tells me her stripper name (not going to say it). I watch her go, and my homeboys come over to give me a pep talk bout getting at her (all really bad advice).

Me and my boys ordered more drinks, talked more shit to each other, and then out of nowhere she returns and my homeboys leave. We resumed our baseball talk, and then it moved into stuff we like. We’re taking turns “buying” drinks (tipping the bartender), and then she asks if I want to buy her a dance. I know she’s been working on me for that setup, and yeah I may have been drunk but it still wasn’t enough for me to give in and so I politely declined. She leaves again, and now it’s just me and my homeboys back to drinking.

After awhile, happy hour is over. The drinks we were ordering turned into their full price at $30 per, so we stopped. We’re getting ready to go, so I leave to take a piss, and coming out the bathroom, I see “Los Doyers”, and she’s bout to get on the dance floor. She sees me, grabs my arm, and asks me to watch. She’s going through all the dance motions, and I throw some 1’s at her. Afterwards, she sits on me, and begs for a lap dance. I’m hella drunk, and decided in my head “Meh, what’s another $20”.

She takes me to a back table and starts grinding on me hella hard, and then I stop her. Really, the only thing I wanted from her was to sit, chill, and just stare at her (She’s beautiful, and I’m drunk). She’s on me, and we’re just chilling… THEN out of nowhere she tells me her real name AND all the personal problems that she’s going through, and I mean spilling EVERYTHING to me.

She goes “Why can’t I make money as the other girls, is it because I’m ugly or something”, and then proceeds to point out at the different girls around and tells me how much each one makes a night… Then she’s starts crying and telling me her heroin problem! What the fuck?!?! Her crying goes from misty tears to full on ugly Niagara Falls type tears. It’s such a noticeable display that a random dude came over, and handed her some napkins, while looking at me like “Why you making her cry for?”. I’m just so glad he didn’t step in and try to play hero… I tried to comfort her the best I could but she tells me not to touch her. She then gets off of me and the DJ calls for her again to get on stage, I try to hand her my $20 and she refuses at first. I kept insisting, and eventually takes the money (reluctantly).

She starts dancing on stage, and another stripper joins her. She’s good at hiding the tears, and the her appearance/mood goes back to being like she was never crying but just “flirty” with other customers. After the song, she disappears, and her friend starts talking to me. I ask her friend to text her my number (she does). The friend leaves, my homeboys sit next to me asking if I’m ready to leave and before I say “yes” we get kicked out. It’s not because of me, it’s because one of my homeboys (who shall not be named) rubbed some girl’s cooter on another stage and she didn’t like that so she told security.

Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do if she called me. Also I’m good off of strip clubs for awhile, even if there’s free alcohol/food. Only good thing I can mention is that I spent less than I did the last time I went to a strip club (see here). I spent $40 at hustler, and $10 at Dennys. Sunday had me feeling all types of weird.