Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Another TMI Post Punctuated with Some WTHIWWY

MyPoorPoolBoy. He is enduring quite a bit of mouth-runneth-over syndrome this evening, and I'm really pretty sure it is because I have discovered this:

Deep Eddy Sweet Tea Vodka

Now, due to my effed-up precocious predisposition to developing kidney stones since the medically unrealistic age of 26, I am not supposed to have tea. So basically, I am risking my renal health to even be in the same room with this shi+.

It's iced tea with Imperial Pure Cane Sugar, so it's pretty much the mostest absolutely perfectest Texas beverage ever made.


Because someone who is obviously a freakin' genius put VODKA in it.

If that genius is a man, he can get in line to be my 3rd husband.

Anyway, here are my epiphanies for the evening -

1) While watching the Gene Simmons episode where Shannon has a taser party (basically it was about like it seems like it would be - a Tupperware party but without the trademark burping noises and more like a lot of buzzing and resulting screaming, so you know, like a dark and serious sex toy party) - I remarked that you really wouldn't want to get one of those and just toss it into your vibrator drawer.

2) I reminded him that I am more or less branded as his property with my tramp stamp because the wording includes an APOSTROPHE and an S after his name. Like a white trash luggage tag or something.

3) Then I got a horrific case of projectile diarrhea and I tried to explain the severity of the situation to MyPoolBoy by describing its force and magnitude to him with Richter scale measurements and tornadic F-force ratings. I included the comment that it was a good thing that toilet bowl sides go up kind of far (for obvious reasons) and I was reminded about a German word that I concocted at the beach - bierschitz - in honor of the 2 straight nights of Lone Star consumption and the 2 subsequent days of unfortunate bowel circumstances that I incurred.

4) Not only that but I also came back from the coast with a fever blister on my lower lip. And of course I KNOW where I got it.

Because the study of reptiles is called herpetology, y'all.

That's right.

The a$$hole beer-hostage-taking SNAKE gave me herpes.

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