I was here with my brother, Damien, and a couple of guys from work one night drinking Sam Adams. Three girls dressed up like cheerleaders were handing out samples of Smirnoff Ice. We asked the bartender to give us all his empty bottles so the girls would think we were big Smirnoff fans. We had a display set up, and when they walked up I lied and said, “It’s my brother’s birthday.” We immediately got free cheers and took photos with them, and one of the girls gave Damien a kiss on the cheek. There was a blond, a brunette, and a redhead that had every guy in the place dragging his tongue on the floor. The girls had a couple of managers making sure they weren’t spending too much time with anybody, so we got crafty and bought drinks for them. By the end of the night I was professing my undying love for Tim O’Toole’s because I got to talk to such hot girls. Recently I noticed that the Smirnoff girls were coming back, and of course I rounded up all the guys. We got here early, but instead of a repeat of the party of the century, in come these two girls in black T-shirts–they were horrible in comparison to the previous Smirnoff girls. Needless to say, we didn’t drink a whole lot of Sprite-tasting malt beverages that night.

–Brett Taylor, architect