Heading face first into the Ginaissance.

When I was 16 I got my first proper job. I got the job in the winter at a shop that sold Outdoor clothing and ski equipment, which, as summer rolled around quickly became an outlet for patio furniture and home gyms. It was at this job that I first became fully acquainted with the concept of the "lunch break." Back in Des Moines, Iowa, we had a chain of fast food taco establishments known as Taco John's. One of these purveyors of fine Mexican food at a fair price happened to be a block away from where I worked. This, of course, resulted in many a taco consumed on breaks. My life, unbeknownst to me, was about to change- a friend of mine found employment at a Taco John's across town. The first day our work hours overlapped, I decided to drive to his Taco John's instead of the one nearby. I returned to work nearly an hour later with a huge bag full of overflowing "custom" fast food tacos at a heavily discounted price. When my boss began yelling at me for taking such a massive quantity of time for lunch, I calmly explained to him that my friend worked at the Taco John's across town and gave me a large discount…and would he like a Taco? He proceeded to eat the taco and never question my lunchtime outings again.

Brian Hannan eventually quit that job (as a result of an increasing quantity of nausea in him and his friends from the constant taco smell on his person) but the memories of discounted tacos live on…that’s right Brian, if you actually read this, I am talking about you.

Fast forward to the Christmas season of 1999. I was drunk at my grandparents' 50th wedding anniversary party in Tucson, Arizona.
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(For all of you who know the story, yes it was the one where I tried to urinate out the patio door in my parents’ room in the condo where we were staying and needed to be led to the toilet by my mother) I was approached by two other college students who spent far too much time working on their websites and far too little time working on their schoolwork. The concept was that we could increase our procrastination threshold, and celebrate "Gin and Tacos"- two things that the three of us held dear in our hearts. Thus, was born.

Five and a half years later, we at the Corporation have noticed that our attention to Gin and Taco related content has begun to wane. Aside from the ever popular Gin Reviews and the always insightful Taco Doctor there seems as though we have been lax in our duty to provide the viewing public with all their gin and tacos oriented needs.

We at believe that the time has come, and hence we bring you…..


That’s right, starting on Monday the 9th of May will post a weeks work of daily Gin and Taco oriented content. I hope you all enjoy it as much as we do.
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In the meantime, I encourage all of you to share your favorite gin and or taco oriented memory.

14 thoughts on “ Heading face first into the Ginaissance.”

  • Barstow, California. The first week of June, 2003.

    Mike: "Pull over, let's get something to eat at Del Taco."
    Ed: "I've heard that place is pretty gross."
    Mike: "But the name is Spanish. It means 'of the taco'."

    Let's just say we were both right. I can honestly say Del Taco is the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten in my life at that point. Little did I know that a generic 8-for-99 cents hot dog in Seattle would break that record just days later.

  • Early in my undergraduate career, I first encountered gin at Murder by Death house shows. It was made by the fine people at McCormicks and was "mixed"- more like sprinkled with- generic Sprite. After several of these shows, I became attached to this vile concoction (which, I later found, is known as Christmas Tree Water or, if vodka is added, Glitter and Trash), and it is still my go-to mixed drink if I am at a gathering with a woefully understocked bar. Ed, after discovering this quirk, showed me The New Way of the Tom Collins, in hopes of squelching this habit, but I still indulge as necessary. I like to think of it as a survival trait-like drinking one's own urine to avoid dehydration.

  • When I was 22 and just moving out of my "only drink beer and tequila shots" phase and into my "other, subtler liquors are good too" phase, I went out to dinner with my parents. When the waiter came by to take our pre-drink orders, my father order his usual J.D. and soda, my mother ordered her usual nothing, and then, when my turn came around, I nonchalantly ordered a Bombay Sapphire double martini with a twist. (Note: my experience with gins was not extensive enough for me to know that I could do better–I just sort of assumed that the most expensive was the best, THAT's how green I was.) The waiter didn't blink. The same could not be said for my father, who murmured something about how I'd just ordered "the rabbit punch of cocktails." The drinks came, I drank it calmly–like a real live adult!–and my father looked at me, for the first time in my life, with genuine respect. Thank you, Gin–my own "Field Of Dreams" moment, courtesy of you!

  • I'm going to risk offending people here, but my most powerful gin-related memory is of not liking it. But the story is a little better than that. Erik had been harassing me to drink gin with him. I told him that I didn't like it, that it tasted like Pine Sol. He tried mixing it in various juices to no avail. So, on one of Erik's underage (I'm pretty sure, anyway) college birthdays, someone bought him a bottle of some expensive gin — I want to say it was Van Gogh, but I can't be sure. Anyway, Erik made it his goal to get me to drink it with him. Not only that, but he wouldn't allow me to leave his apartment until I had consumed at least one shot of it. He swore that it was so excellent a gin, I would not need any additional mixers or chasers, etc. He was willing to bet money that I would like it. I remember begging not to drink it, and holding out for a LONG time. But he started getting crabby and wanted to go out and was sticking to his guns, and I felt like I might have been really holding up the party… So I drank the stuff. You know what? It tasted like Pine Sol. But that man? He was a true believer. He had faith in the gin. He really tried to bring me over.

  • Perhaps we will just have to accept this as one of the dangers of utilizing stock taco footage as opposed to my own original taco artwork.

  • I am more than comfortable with this taco's hue, but at the same time I feel like I should be urging you to start creating your own original taco artwork.

  • Rich Jerk knows his stuff however I would advice to prospective buyer to look into what he can offer very carefully, some people might not be able to make full use of his information.

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