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I don't actually drink, and I probably never will, but this was quite the interesting experience.
My roommate bought some Scuppernong grape cider from Colonial Williamsburg and we had a bottle (only about 6oz. each, by the way) of the yummy concoction. As soon as I had a small taste though, a look of absolute skepticism swept across my fact.
I've had alcohol twice before, and both by accident as a child when they were labeled "otherwise", and I swear out that that stuff had it, too.
Sort of like the listing for Trans Fat, if the amount of Trans Fat contained in a packaging of your favorite unhealthy snack can be rounded DOWN to 0g, then they're going to say that the snack has 0 grams of Trans Fat...even IF it really has .49 grams, because TECHNICALLY...it rounds down. THIS is what I believe to be the case here!
You sly, sly producers! The cider probably has less alcohol that would be necessary to claim it an alcoholic beverage, so it's LISTED as "Non-Alcoholic" on the front. I drink my share, throwing caution to the wind, because the stuff tasted freakin' awesome.
Later on that night, I decided to embark on an experiment I had been meaning to try for quite some time now; blowing up a condom with helium. Unfortunately...it was lubricated (EWE!) and the condom proved to be a poor vessel for helium. Charlie (yes...I named the inflated condom) began to lose air. I tried to refill it, only to find that it was far to slick for such an attempt. I got angry and dashed Charlie to pieces. My foot was itching so I scratched it (YES, this will actually be important for later), and just as I did, I got the brilliant notion of setting Charlie on FIRE!
I grabbed my lighter (no I don't smoke, I'm just a pyromaniac, so calm down there), went into the bathroom, and set Charlie aflame over the sink. Well...I forgot that plastic technically MELTS...so I had a mess to clean.
I later decided that I needed to take a shower, but could never commit to the process. Every time I did, I started talking to my roommate about one thing or another, usually music and anime being close to the tongue, thus prompting me to say the same thing over and over again: "I need to go take a shower," "I should go take a shower now," and "Let me take a shower before I forget again"...and again, and again, and again.
FINALLY, I get up, only to be engaged by the lulling effects of Rammstein. I proceeded to swinging my head (it should be "hair", but mine's pretty freakin' short and only serves to look like troll hair after most bouts of such behavior) as if I were performing on stage. I was a little dizzy and unstable after that, so I walked a few short paces to catch myself. Just when I was in the clear, I decided to check on my closet for SOME reason (which now completely escapes me). Now...the area around my desk and bed has a large rug down. The area in front of the closet has no rug, just hardwood floors...SLICK hardwood floors.
The lubricant on my foot from the condom (yes, it comes into play HERE) plus the slick nature of the floor equaled BOOM! My feet flew out from under me and I hit the floor flat on my back, just shy of busting my head on the TV set. My entire right arm was numbed with pain and I was completely numbed with laughter. All I could think of was "Let the bodies, his the floor, let the bodies hit the floor." For a short while, I thought that my arm was actually broken!!! And yet...I still laughed.
Gradually, the pain all shifted to my right wrist (joy?) and gave it hell...cuz it could. However, it was merely sprained and not broken.
So...it was an interesting evening to say nonetheless.
Xits the Tragedy · Mon Mar 23, 2009 @ 09:01pm · 0 Comments |
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