I once read that bartenders HATE when people order dirty martinis. They consider it pretentious because they don’t believe someone could actually like the way it tastes, and it’s sacrilegious to destroy a good gin with olive juice.

To that I say: pish posh.

However, this post proving bartenders wrong might be a moo point (aka: a cow’s opinion; it doesn’t matter… it’s moo. – J. Tribbianni) because I like vodka martinis, and maybe they don’t count. And not just any old vodka martini – it must be a Tito’s Vodka martini with blue cheese stuffed olives.

Maybe this is acceptable to bartenders. … or maybe it conjures up the same level of disdain as someone ordering a Cosmopolitan back in the Sex and the City hey day.

**And when I say hey day, I mean it. This reboot is fucking terrible. I heard Aiden is back – and I love me some Aiden – but the show is so abominable that I don’t even care. I won’t even go into why I hate it so much, because that would be a whole other blog post, so I’ll sum it up with this: It tries too damn hard to check all the liberal boxes, AND I CONSIDER MYSELF A LIBERAL!!! Ok, maybe a democrat with a heavy lean toward liberalism, but you get the point. Oh god, my mind is racing… I want to write everything that’s wrong the show! Focus, Tiffany! Focus!

Back to my beloved dirty boy, Tito.

I will admit, the first time I tried one, it was because I wanted to see what the hype was about from all the cool people on social media.

I was sure I’d hate it because I don’t really like green olives … or blue cheese … and vodka is really just a blank canvas that I cover up with different sweet or sour masking agents to make it easier to choke down and get drunk.

But I’ll never forget my first time with Tito. I popped my olive at one of our favorite restaurants, 131 Main in Cornelius, NC.

It was 3 years ago when PJ and I went for a day date to celebrate our children going back to school.

I’d taken the entire week off to luxuriate in the quiet of those fools being gone, and have been doing the same ever since.

It is heavenly. I highly recommended it if you can swing it. Maybe you’ll have to cancel the family vacation to accomplish this, but trust me, it’s worth it.

That day, I ordered my very first Dirty Tito’s. Not gonna lie – it’s an acquired taste. With every sip, I tried to look nonchalant and not as though I wanted to barf all over the table. I remember thinking, ‘Ok, you tried one… never doing THAT again! Damn it. I should’ve ordered a Moscow Mule.’

Well one thing that my Pa agreed on, is that 131 Main makes a nice, stiff drink. Not like (according to him) other restaurants that water their’s down.

**I’m looking at you Bonefish Grille. Although Pa did say their Old Fashioned redeemed them. At lunch one day, I was feeling very Don Draper-y, so I ordered his signature drink. Bonefish’s version was a sight to behold as it was served inside a smoke-filled dome. After seeing mine, Pa had to get one too and we sat there sipping and smoking cigarettes and bitching out the server as if she was Peggy Olsen. She accused me of not saying ‘thank you’ and I screamed, “THAT’S WHAT THE MONEY IS FOR!” (I’m lying about that last part, we don’t smoke and we are very courteous to our servers, as everyone should be. If you’re not, you are an actual walking ballsack. Get some manners.)

Oh my Lord, so many tangents. Back to Tito.

So although it was pretty disgusting, and I only wanted to get a little tipsy so I could be presentable whilst retrieving my children from the bus stop, this was not the case.

One drink knocked me on my ass. I was wastedddddd.

I went home and passed out on my couch for like 2 hours then got up to get the kids. I realized as I was walking to the bus stop that I was STILL drunk.

I remember getting up there and making small talk with people I’d never spoken to before and praying that they didn’t know I was drunk.

I’m sure they did and probably told all the other neighbors. Now I’m positive that I’m not only the “crazy poop station lady”, but the “drunk, crazy poop station lady who sits at home writing letters to the HOA about not wanting a poop station in front of her house while guzzling a 5th of whiskey on the daily.”

But something strange happened after that day. Even though I was absolutely repulsed by the drink, the next time I desired a little r&r with an adult beverage, I found myself craving one!

The mind works in mysterious ways, and mine was telling me that I wanted to revisit that salty, savory, drink/appetizer combo.

Every few months, it happens again and I can’t stop thinking about that dirty bastard until he’s mine.

When I realized that PJ and I had not been alone together without our kids for a solid two months, and it was apparent they were on every last one of our damn nerves, I suggested (demanded) a day date to 131 Main.

When I ordered my drink, no longer caring if people think I’m pretentious, I told our server that they make the best ones I’ve ever had. She pretended to give a shit as I continued on about trying and failing to recreate it at home. I joked (not really joking) that I wanted their exact recipe. I didn’t get it, but I did get nice and tipsy 🥴

Te amo Tito, delicioso hijo de puta! ♥️🍸