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| - I feel like I'm miles behind and miles ahead of the curve on Magnum.
Imagine a couple years ago, or last night, or whenever, and you're in bed with a girl, lady, woman, or victim du jour for the first time. And there's "hot and heavy" going on... which sounds noticeably less appealing when one is sober. And she tries to mount up for a "Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man" ride and, maybe, you don't drink at the time, and you're like, "Woman, don't you have any condoms?"
And she says no. Things sour. You feel safe. And jackassoholic.
And you later find out this isn't true. SHE DID HAVE CONDOMS. It's just that she didn't want to embarrass you with the Magnum condoms in her bedside table that she shared with her tyrannosaurusly hung ex. What a Dick. Because she thinks you'd be intimidated. Because you're just a cute little guy.
Well, if you can believe it, it's happened to me. Again. And this time, her name is Magnum. She is beautiful.
In the future, the coolest of the cool, the swankiest of the wanks, the biggest smiles, the worst breath, the hippest hipsters, and the snobbiest Scottsdalians will disabuse this place of it's current location-induced obscurity. And I'll talk longingly about "back in the day, back in the days before you couldn't walk through it" like I do now with the Vig. This is the future of Phoenix nightlife. Are you marking my words?
The location absolutely could not be worse. But what they have is something really special. She has New York quality cocktails and obviously the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky phallic cigar aspect is an important factor that can't be ignored. Suck. Blow. Tons of cigars to be put wherever he/she will let you.
Go here. Be surprised. Tell your friends. Rinse. Repeat.
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