Tony Bones
Grundalier
I made a trip to the smoke shop yesterday and upon reccomendation of the proprietor, purchased one Antano Robusto Grande. "It got a 91 from Cigar Insider," was all I needed to hear. "It's kind of strong though, so watch out." Phiff. Strong. I live for strong. I like my cars w/ V8's and my scotch neat. I like strong, damn it!
The smoke had a beautiful and greasy wrapper with a nice scent.
Upon ignition I noticed that the Antano was pretty mellow. Good draw & nice leathery undertones with a hint of nutmeg. The smoke was plentiful and I set out to wash my car, taking a pull off the stick every now and then. About half way through, the cigar took on a light spiciness. Not knock-you-in-the-nuts, Fuente Toast Over America spicey, just a nice something. "Hell, this isn't strong."
I finished my duties with the car & proceeded to dry er' off. I figured that since I spent the first half of the stick working I better enjoy the second half at rest. This is where things started to go awry. I sat down on my patio and the poop slowly started to head toward the fan.
Stuff started to get a little woozy down stairs. I've had this happen before and didn't think much of it, so I continued on. By the end of the Antano I was a stammering, drunken, slobbering dummy. My head was spinning, my stomach was doing the Cha-cha, and things just weren't looking good.
I hunkered down on the couch and had a glass of water thinking that all I needed was a little rest. Well folks, that lasted for about two minutes. I had a full-blown case of the bed spins...except I wasn't in bed and hadn't touched the hooch. Oh boy, my mouth is watering. I thought to myself "hey, usually when my mouth waters...oh ****!" I NEED TO GET TO THE SINK!!!
Can you imagine what came next? No? OK, I'll describe.
With a wretched heave and a wretched ho', Anthony done let er' go. Blaaaaaaaaaah! Haaaarfffffff! Hooo-waaaaa!
-Toast with peanut butter. Check
-Cherry yogurt. Check
-Orange juice. Check
-Undigested vitamin. Check
Phew, it was all there. I was really concerned that something might have escaped the excessive and ever-so-unpleasant spewing. Nope. Turns out that the ol' stomach doesn't discriminate.
Needless to say, the Antano was good in a beat-the-ungawdly-hell-out-of-you-and-leave-you-crying-like-a-little-bitch-over-the-kitchen-sink-type-of-way, but I won't touch another one w/ a ten foot steel pole & someone else's lips.
The smoke had a beautiful and greasy wrapper with a nice scent.
Upon ignition I noticed that the Antano was pretty mellow. Good draw & nice leathery undertones with a hint of nutmeg. The smoke was plentiful and I set out to wash my car, taking a pull off the stick every now and then. About half way through, the cigar took on a light spiciness. Not knock-you-in-the-nuts, Fuente Toast Over America spicey, just a nice something. "Hell, this isn't strong."
I finished my duties with the car & proceeded to dry er' off. I figured that since I spent the first half of the stick working I better enjoy the second half at rest. This is where things started to go awry. I sat down on my patio and the poop slowly started to head toward the fan.
Stuff started to get a little woozy down stairs. I've had this happen before and didn't think much of it, so I continued on. By the end of the Antano I was a stammering, drunken, slobbering dummy. My head was spinning, my stomach was doing the Cha-cha, and things just weren't looking good.
I hunkered down on the couch and had a glass of water thinking that all I needed was a little rest. Well folks, that lasted for about two minutes. I had a full-blown case of the bed spins...except I wasn't in bed and hadn't touched the hooch. Oh boy, my mouth is watering. I thought to myself "hey, usually when my mouth waters...oh ****!" I NEED TO GET TO THE SINK!!!
Can you imagine what came next? No? OK, I'll describe.
With a wretched heave and a wretched ho', Anthony done let er' go. Blaaaaaaaaaah! Haaaarfffffff! Hooo-waaaaa!
-Toast with peanut butter. Check
-Cherry yogurt. Check
-Orange juice. Check
-Undigested vitamin. Check
Phew, it was all there. I was really concerned that something might have escaped the excessive and ever-so-unpleasant spewing. Nope. Turns out that the ol' stomach doesn't discriminate.
Needless to say, the Antano was good in a beat-the-ungawdly-hell-out-of-you-and-leave-you-crying-like-a-little-bitch-over-the-kitchen-sink-type-of-way, but I won't touch another one w/ a ten foot steel pole & someone else's lips.
