At first, I was a little sad, because I thought the Lifesaver in the little cellophane wrapper was broken. I put it to the side, to open when I had a little more time to dedicate to not making a mess. When I had time, just a moment ago, I realized that it wasn’t that my Lifesaver was broken, it’s that instead of getting only one, I got one and a half. And watermelon, to boot.
I don’t know if you’ve eaten Lifesavers lately, but here’s what happened—they got rid of that crappy lime flavor and put in watermelon, which is much better. Also, there is now raspberry and there is no longer lemon. I’m all for this. Let me be blunt—lemon and lime flavored candies taste like shit.
I’m really partial to lemons and limes—in fact, I’m eating a lime at the very moment I type this. But lime candy? No. It doesn’t taste like lime. It tastes like some sort of weird chemical poison, and I find that taste very unsettling in my candy.
That said, I’ve actually been buying the sugar free Lifesavers, which probably is a bit like chemical poison. They taste remarkably good, though. I’m not going to go so far as to suggest they’re as good as the sugared-up version—if you ate a real Lifesaver and then ate a sugar-free Lifesaver, you could tell the difference right away—but they’re pretty tasty, all the same. Of course, that might be the sugar withdrawals talking.
At this point, you might be wondering if this entire post is going to be about candy. Sadly, it might very well be.
See, I’m trying to watch what I eat—wedding in a couple of months, and I would prefer to not be the grotesque slob that I am at the moment when that time rolls around. The first thing I had to cut out of my diet was candy. In my world, this is a grand tragedy, because I really like candy. I mean, I really like it. Like I have wet dreams where Candy Land is a real place and Willy Wonka is my drunk, coked-up uncle that doesn’t care what I do as long as I stay out of his way.
The worst part is, I’m not losing any weight. Well, one time I forgot to drink any water for three days, and I lost about five pounds, but that doesn’t really count, because as soon as I hydrated myself again, it all came back. And the hallucinations went away, so it was sort of a double-whammy.
But enough about all of that.
I think it’s obvious by this point that I have absolutely jack shit worth saying. Usually, this is where I would rely on booze to make me clever and witty, or at least carry me through the babble-induced boredom in a bourbon-scented haze. But I don’t have bourbon. I have gin. Gin makes me even more boring than usual, and it makes me painfully aware of that fact. It’s really not a good liquor for me, which probably explains why it’s still on my shelf, as opposed to being an empty bottle behind the toilet like all the others. This stuff should have been gone long ago.
I would tip it back right now just to be rid of it, but apparently, people look down on you for knocking back half a bottle of gin straight out of the bottle. I’m not generally one for social graces, but waking up naked in the parking lot of Blockbuster without any memory of the last three days is pretty out of control, even for me. Not that I’ve ever done that. And it for sure wasn’t when I drank the first half of this damn bottle…last weekend.
As much as I bitch, I have to admit: there’s something to this whole “gin” thing. I mean, for getting shitfaced drunk, it really can’t be beat. Because once you get over the fact that it’s like downing a glass of that cheap pine-scented air freshener they sell at the Dollar Store around Christmas time, the taste isn’t so bad. It doesn’t really have that alcohol taste that whiskey and vodka and tequila share. It doesn’t taste good, by any means, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth…or swallowed, for that matter.
Keep in mind, I’ve never had expensive gin. When I can pay off my strip club debt, maybe then I’ll consider blowing cash on uppity liquor. Until then, Gilbey’s will do just fine.
But, yeah, you get that first gulp down, and it’s all cake after that. You wake up the next day, your head’s propped up on the empty plastic bottle that used to be filled with cheap gin, you can’t remember anything past your second drink, you have cigarette burns all over your arms, and you don’t know where you’re at. Your wallet’s missing, and the bums are keeping their distance, shaking their heads in disgust and pity, talking about how bad you smell. It’s a good time.
Hm. I’m…gonna go, now…not to, uh, drink gin or anything. Just to, uh…read a book or someth—bye! [grabs bottle of gin and runs away]