I'm perusing the tequila shelves at my new local liquor store when a woman approaches me. You know the type -- long silken hair, tight crop top, full glossy lips. Girls like this are always coming after guys like me for one reason and one reason only: to try and sell us something.

"Do you want to try an 1800 Ultimate Margarita?" she asks me.

Now, offering me a margarita is like offering candy to a school child. If some sketchy dude had pulled up to my school with a van full of margaritas, I'd have been like, "To hell with American History, I'm going with this guy." In fact, margaritas are the whole reason I'm in the liquor store today. This one is actually pretty good.

"I've got some coupons," the salesgirl pouts, "and we're also doing a drawing for a free trip to Cancun, if you want to fill out a ticket."

So I follow her back to her little booth by the pre-mixed margaritas and put my name down for 1800's marketing scam prize drawing. I hand her the ticket and thank her profusely for her time.

Then I reach across her, grab a bottle of Jose Cuervo Golden Margaritas, and head for the checkout.