A glass of grape juice with salt on the rim would not be the same thing

I could totally go for a kick-ass, homemade margarita right now. Right. Now. But I have no ingredients. I don’t even know what goes in a margarita; spanish-speaking persons in dimly lit restaurants make almost my entire yearly intake of margaritas. Probably there’s tequila in there, and triple sec. Do I know what triple sec is? I do not. But it’s probably in there.

I have some thousand island dressing and some grapes in the fridge. I’m pretty sure those don’t get me any closer to a kick-ass homemade margarita, which is the thing I could really go for. Right. Now.

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