In my world, those are all the kinds of juice that we need. Orange for in the mornings when you take your vitamins, apple for when you're sick, and cranberry for when you get a bladder infection or want something with a little extra tang.
Well my small juice world was recently blown wide open when I went to the store to get some tea. I like Red Rose tea and I was down to my last tea bag. I like strong tea. Which means two tea bags. And I needed some apples anyway. Time to go to the store. Of course, I was wearing my pyjama pants and my University sweatshirt. The one with the hole by the wrist cuff. The one that I love. It had vegetable soup on the front. But it's not like Safeway is the freakin' Debutante ball.
So I tied a bandana over my unruly hair, slipped into my sneakers and grabbed my keys. On the way to the store, I sang the Red Hooded Sweatshirt song by Adam Sandler. At the top of my lungs.
I wasn't in any hurry, so why not wander around the store to see if there's anything else I want? Why not? So I wandered into the juice aisle.
Look at all this juice! I should get some juice.
Maybe cranberry. That's a good juice to have, I think. It can be mixed with Vodka and turned into a crantini. Yum. Oh, but it's not that simple. No. Do you want cranberry? Or cranberry light? Raspberry cranberry? Grape-cran? Grape-cran light? Mixed berry cranberry? Apple Cranberry? Cherry cranberry? Pineapple cranberry? Wait.
Pineapple cranberry? Seriously? Really? They make that? Why? I'm somewhat confused by the existance of pineapple juice in the first place. I don't know a lot of people who crave a tall, frosty glass of pineapple juice. The only thing I thought it was ever used for was mixing seven-up with for grade-school parties. And perhaps as a glaze in fruit pizza. Mmmmmm. Fruit pizza.
But the addition of cranberry to pineapple is really a bold choice to make. It says "I like my juice on the wild-side, thank-you very much!"
And you know, this abundance of juice flavours doesn't stop at the maligned cranberry section. Oh no. They now make V-8 fruit juices. I vaguely recall buying a small glass container of it at the 7-11 in the town where I grew up during my first real hangover. It had carrot juice and apple juice and orange and probably mango or papaya in it. It looked very orange and healthy. Like, if I bought it and drank it, perhaps the tiny gentleman named Jose Cuervo would stop jumping on the trampoline in my stomach. I tells ya, folks, Tequila is the ebola of hard alcohol. When you wake up on your deck after a cold, Hallowe'en night, hugging a half-empty bottle of Cuervo gold, you should stop and think about what you're doing and how willing you are to rent space out in your liver to hard liquor, especially when it's going to throw a party and not sign a lease and wreck the carpets.
But I digress (boy do I), I ended up buying a blend of raspberry-cranberry light. And was rewarded with a tart, tangy goodness. To which I added cold, polar ice vodka. Booker and I drank quite a bit last night. Lately, I haven't been drinking much. The odd beer, the occaisional pint with Curt. Maybe a glass of wine when I go home. My hard partying, puking in a bathroom in some strange bar while a Korean exchange student phones my roommate to come pick me up because I am "Bad! Very bad! She is bad girl!" Wow, did I ever owe her for that one! Fortunately, I paid her back. A couple times. The drunk.
I am drinking: Water
I am listening to: the Fubar soundtrack, in particular "Roller" by Treble Charger.
I am feeling: Good. Also bought some vitamins at the store. And got a lot of sleep last night. Wheeeee!
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