Dude, if you’ve read my horribly brief review on Tito’s Texas Vodka, you’ll know that (1) I suck ass at reviewing vodka (2) I’m hearting me some Tito’s Holy Water lately and (3) I can’t get enough of this guy born
burrito “Burtito.” Anyway, I don’t even know him – but he rocks! This is likely the greatest story – er… – ever told. My new BFF. I’m mesmerized by a good Southern accent almost as much as I’m romanced and stricken silly by the average Glaswegian, Dublin/Hiberno, or Cockney speak. Southerner, born and bred.
Humble, well spoken, funny, in-touch. Been broke, been doing well. He’s just takin’ it all in stride – true gentleman style. Buy his hooch… buy a lot of it.
Uh yeah. That’s the dude’s real name. Go figure. If you’ve read my other vodka posts #1 and #2, you may have heard mention of this guy and his hooch. I’m a sucker for an underdog, a great rags-to-riches story, and most of all – thumbing my nose at the mainstream. I’m continually rolling my eyes and internally fuming, each and every time someone asks for Ciroc or Goose. Help me – please.
I again blame the greedy French and their Madison Ave public relation goons for selling out to “brands” like Diddy, P.Diddy, Puffy, Puff Daddy, Spiffy, P.Combs, No Combs, No J.Lo, or whatever Prince-inspired name change he comes out with tomorrow. I’m a firm believer that there is an inverse relationship to quality and quantity once a product turns extremely popular and mass-market.