The Time I Hit on Jenna Bush

My last post put me in a nostalgic mood for my days of undergrad glory, so I've decided to share two stories about my encounters with the Bush clan. Both of these stories share a setting - The Iron Cactus in Austin, TX. It's resturaunt/bar on Austin's legedndary 6th Street, serving some of Austin's best fajitas; it's also one of the top tequila bars in the country, boasting over 80 different kinds, from the cheap stuff that tastes like a mixture of paint thinner and burning, to the $35 a shot Herradura Seleccion Suprema.

Anyway, one evening a few months after Dubya was elected, some buddies and I were hanging out on the upstairs patio, sipping top-shelf margaritas. Needless to say, I was a bit intoxicated - not sloppy drunk, but definitely past the point of having "inhibitions" - and in walked none other than the President of the United States. Accompanying him was Colin Powell and several people I didn't recognize, which I am assuming were Secret Service agents. Even though he had been governor throughout my time in Austin, I had never seen him in real life before. They were there to dine on the Cactus's delicious fajitas; apparently the leader of the free world needs to eat too.

Assisted by liquid courage, I walked over to their table and introduced myself. Bush was very friendly and down to earth. I asked him if he would do me the honor of taking a shot of Porfidio with me (my favorite tequila), one frat guy to another. He politely declined because he "doesn't drink anymore." Quitter. However, we chatted briefly and he said to me:

"Son, let me ask you a question - as an American. I'm thinkin' about invadin' Iraq. I'm fixin' to kill 100,000 Iraqis and one blonde with big tits."

"What?" I replied, horrified. "Why would you want to kill a blonde with big tits?!?!"

So he turned to Colin Powell and said, "See Colin, I told you no one would care about 100,000 Iraqis."


No this didn't actually “happen.” It's actually a joke I heard, but it works so much better as a first-person story, and since I'm from Texas, it's plausible right up until the end. The next story, however, is actually true.

It was graduation weekend at UT and two of my frat brothers that I hadn't seen in a while (since I stayed an extra year) happened to be in town, so we decided to go down to 6th Street and get drunk. After hitting up a couple of other bars, we decided to check out the Iron Cactus. I ran into a girl I knew, a tall, slender blonde who was in Theta. While I was talking with her, one of my frat brothers, tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Holy shit - isn't that Jenna Bush?" pointing to a girl by the bar, guzzling beer like it was going out of style.

The girl I was talking to said that yeah, it was her - Jenna was one of her sorority sisters. Now Jenna is cute, don't get me wrong, but she definitely pales in comparison to most of the girls in her sorority, who are almost universally smoking hot. She was, however, the President's daughter, so I walked over to the bar and asked her if I could buy her a shot.

She said ok, and I ordered two shots of tequila - I don't remember what kind. However, before the bartender could pour them, a young-looking guy came over and said that they needed to leave. He was wearing normal bar-hopping clothes, but I noticed something strange in his ear - an earpiece.

I was getting cockblocked by that Secret Service. I'm hoping that either it was because she was too drunk and shouldn't be taking more shots, or that there was some matter of national security, and not that it was because I was me. But in any event, the result was the same.

My fucking tax dollars at work.