Culver City Slut

She pulled out a can of whipped cream and shook it with her left hand, 12 o.z. glass in the other.   Two parts Stoli Vanilla one part Kahlua, coke and cream on top.  What, precisely about this libation equated neighborhood slutation?  Perhaps it was the white head, that only lasted seconds between the tipple presentation that was then tossed in a stainless steal shaker, blending the brown liquid with the white, until a creamy tan fluid, over ice and topped with a cherry was handed to me barside.  I exchanged seven dollars for this service, and imbibed.

Who knows if this was really the cocktail of promiscuous champions, though the magical concoction certainly ignited my taste buds while planted on a stool at the The Backstage.  

 

As I eyed the drink menu at this neighborhood dive, I began to conjure up the many strange names of freaky cocktails.   While this city slut drink was specific to Culver, I wondered if other vicinity bodegas paid homage to their sex workers by naming drinks after them?    What a kind way to respect the street-walking underworld.

 

The first time I ever heard of one of these erotically entitled drinks was while living in a commune in Berkeley. It was my second year in Community College and I was living at Stebbins Co-op, which housed 60 students, mostly from Cal.  It was one massive house near UC Berkeley with three main floors and a basement.  As per co-op ritual, every semester we had a party called “Room-to-Room”  in which each room created it’s own drink so that people walked, or stumbled,  from room to room trying different mind-altering fluids.   I occupied the very last room on the top floor, so by the time my housemates fumbled to my room, they could barely swallow.   This was also quite entertaining because I was sober, serving a virgin cocktail, which disappointed the bulk of my drunken comrades.

 

That night one of my housemates asked if I was a fan of “sex on the beach”.  He handed me a pinkish liquid and incited me to dip my tongue in the sweet stinging potion.  It’s one of those drinks that sounds tasty in theory, but put together create an awkward flavor. The mixture of vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry and orange juice looks cute, although its taste dismatches it’s appearance, which is probably reflective of actual sex on a beach, which, depending on how you work it out, could be really disastrous. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I’ve spent a lot of time on coastlines, but sand gets up in every crevice and, well, you get the picture.

 

There are some incredibly freaky drinks out there, depending on which bars one frequents.   You have the classic “Blow Job” which is vodka, Kahlua and Bailey’s in a shot glass, topped with whipped cream, which you must consume without using your hands.  Granted I find that a little discriminatory, as hands are quite useful.  But hey, in the land of the tongue-less, the one tongue-mouth is blow-job Queing.

 

We’ve all had the fuzzy navel, slippery nipple, and pink panties, although I recently discovered some new drink erotica.  Take the LEG SPREADER #2 for example ( I don’t know what’s in #1).  It consists of Midori, Malibu, Pineapple Juice, and 7 up which is served over ice.  I haven’t actually seen this drink, so I don’t know how it spreads legs…

 

 Oh wait, I think I know…

 

Some of these drinks will really sneak up on you, so watch out. One time I was in Rio at Lapa, where on the weekends the streets are filled with young people spilling out of the many little bars that play reggae, funk (Brazilian Hip Hop), Samba, and Rock.  For those who wish not to shell out too many Reais at a real establishment, one can cop devilish potions at the many drink stalls where vendors serve cocktails over ice or blended.  Extension chords spider every which way, providing illumination to the little stands and power to the over-worked blenders.  You can get a proper sized drink for a buck or two, or you can get a super sized compound for a wee bit more. 

 

One night I was showing some friends from UCLA around, when I decided to try a drink that looked like a strawberry milkshake.  It contained condensed milk, strawberries and Rum.  The cup was about 12 onces, of which about 8 of those oz. was Rum.  When I tried it, the alcohol was barely noticeable, and I was hungry at the same time, and so since it contained fruit and milk I thought why not sip it up real quick and have another?  This I did a few times and what happened after that is a whole other story…

 

I also found a recipe for a cocktail entitled PANTY DROPPER, which like its leg spreading counterpart, contains vodka, Malibu and pineapple juice, though this one adds peach schnapps and orange juice.  I guess you should wear pants while drinking this?

 

Because all of these drinks seem to be woman-centric or misogynistic, we cannot forget about the men beyond their blow jobs, with a drink suitable named Sweaty Balls.  This perspiring drink calls for Gin, Apricot Brandy, Dry Bermouth, and lemon juice.  Please shake well, with two hands.

 

Our final co-gender drink is entitled The Ultimate Climax which has Amaretto, club soda, coconut cream, raspberry liquer, and sweet & sour mix.

 

One of the exciting aspects about obtaining these drinks, is the process of ordering them.  You’re leaning over a bar, legs brushed up against some stranger, shouting at the bar tender who has to read your lips since the deafening tunes prevent easy listening for your cocktail requests.  You shout, “Hey, can I have sex on the beach?”   “Or how’s the blow job, today?”  What do you think is better, “Sweaty balls or The Ultimate Climax?”   Decisions Decisions.