Me llamo baño?

So I left the crazy coffee shop to study elsewhere since there was a residue of weird energy (perhaps from the refractory reincarnation beams) left in the room. Plus, I needed some guacamole, so off it was to one of my favorite little Lubbock-Mex places in town. This month they are running a special on margaritas: Top Shelf are the same price as House, plus you get an extra shot of your fave top shelf tequila as a floater. The food is good, too, and I'm a sucker for any place with homemade tortillas. Anyway, they were having a contest of liquor consumption with several other Lubbock-Mex restaurants in town, so they were begging us to stay after hours and have more fishbowl shaped 'ritas. Guy next to me paid, and who am I to say no to such a worthy cause?

But the thing about this place is the bathroom. They pipe in language learning tapes, which I've heard in restaurants before, but this one is on a perpetual loop so that all you learn to say in Spanish is your name. It repeats: "Me llamo Carlos. Me llamo Sara. Me llamo Ricardo Montalban." You get the picture. Anyway, by the second or third fishbowl (and subsequent shots the bartenders gave us randomly to keep us there), we began calling the bathroom the Me llamo, as in, "I need to Me llamo." "Excuse me, I must go me llamo." "Pardon me, I hear the me llamo calling." "Oh, what the hell, I'll have another. I just me llamoed."

It traveled 'round the bar area to the waitstaff, and so I encourage you all to use the euphemism, "Excuse me, where are your me llamos?," the next time you are out and about. Maybe it will be the catch phrase that sweeps the nation.