you walk over and pick up the pink martini, and you look at it. It looks as if the color is swirling, a mysterious force causing to spin around in the glass. It mesmurizes you, and you stare into it, drawn to drink.
you snap out of it, but are still damn thirsty, so you look at the glass, raise it, do a terrible Sean Connery impression as you state "Shaken not stirred" and bring it to your lips.
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