Adios Motherfucker
It takes a special kind of person to walk up to the bar, look a barkeep squarely in the eyes and order an Adios, Motherfucker. We’re talking about the real deal. Not an AMF or an Adios, Mother F’er, as the drink is called in more squeamish circles. And certainly not the more family-friendly Walk Me Down. You can’t soften the seven-syllable force of a fully articulated Adios, Motherfucker.