Earlier that day I killed those magnificent beasts using only a slingshot and some dried chewing gum. Then I single-handedly sawed the majestic creatures of the wild in half -- as humanely as possible, mind you -- and mounted them on the wall of the Bacardi compound at La Galarza. Then the Bacardi folks asked me to leave. Something about "all the blood."

Rum in its infancy looks a lot like liquified poo.

Poo-like substance goes in this thing, and miraculously comes out rum.

Me and Pepe made-out shortly thereafter...with chicks, dude, with chicks!

Work is the curse of the drinking class.

Time for the requisite shot of an old church during a visit to a foreign country. It's Rule #46 in the Official Tourist Handbook.

We stopped here to pee and and buy cerveza, and interrupted what I believe was some sort of military coup. Fortunately, they only managed to shoot our driver, and I was sober enough to get us to Mexico City.

I see you seeing me.

This guy was incredibly camera-shy and made me swear I wouldn't post his picture on my site. What he didn't know was I had my fingers crossed at the time. Oldest trick in the book, senor!

I'm a meticulous note-taker on research trips.

"Gringo, party of two...Gringo, party of two."

Again, the trip DID NOT suck!

Smoking cigars has been known to cause douchebaggery.

Big fans of the Imbiber site!

The view from my perch atop a mexican gal's shoulders.

The Liquid Muse rocks out with the Imbiber.

She pretty. Me drunky.