Should you find yourself feeling a bit peaked and find yourself at a certain Green Market, oh, say, I dunno, in Sherman, Texas or thereabouts, and find yourself asking one of the local tree huggers for recommendations on Echinacea, DO NOT BE FOOLED BY HER CUTENESS! She is the antichrist... Her beautiful dark hair mustve distracted me from seeing the words ROOT OF TROLL ASS among the many ingredients I couldnt understand. Theyre probably written in some secret agent tree hugger code that we mere mortals arent schooled in. She said, clearly I might add, that it didnt taste that bad. Had I not been a tad bit mesmerized by a mixture of slight delirium from the pending plague and the depths of those eyes Id have been a little wiser, a little more able to decipher the code... Alas, as I arrived home, hands full of pressed shirts(Id almost forgotten what those looked like), backpack filled with all that which a computer nerd needs, and various potions and mixtures from aforementioned witchery cauldrons and scattered these things to the wind as I deftly removed the vile vial from the bag o curiosity cures. Wait, is that a dropper sitting atop the villainous vile?(red flag #1) curiouser and curiouser as I tried to decipher the root this and tincture of toads that; screw it! Or unscrew it as the case may have been, and I did. I briefly remembered mix 40 drops with 2oz of juice...blah blah blah blah swiping the Orange Gatorade from the table and eyeballing my best 2oz guesstimate I counted 1...2...40ish and swallowed the swill. It was about this time, as my eyes swolle twice their normal size, that I realized a.this wasnt that bad it was THAT +@%@%#!! BAD and b.maybe the fairy dust shed blinded me with had lost its glitz and glamour. Quickly grabbing the Gatorade I chugged as if Id been trekking cross the Sahara. That was round one. Sat fading in the trusty chair, (the throne to the rest of you) and decided a good power nap was in order so off I went into the depths of wonderland, much like Alice after the drink me episode. Upon awakening I remember the slightly off kilter dream wherein I was the head of a criminal enterprise, throwing a party atop a high rise and Mary Anne Revelli was a law enforcement official that I had to chase away, brandishing a 44 dessert eagle (which I swore I had a license for...somewhere) if you knew her youd know even with that, I was outgunned. Poof, Im awake. Surely its been a couple hours so Im game for round two with said satanic solution. Because Im so smart, so wise, Sooooo...dumb, I decide I know how to get around the taste of the tincture. Using the dashing dropper Ill simply squirt 40ish drops quickly down the back of my throat and chase it with a couple slugs of el gatorado.. Cause as I said, Im so smart. Bad.idea.#2 omfreakingoutg@d... There wasnt enough Gatorade to cleanse the pallet so Im stuffing anything I can grab that resembles anything that will mute the ectoplasmic acidity that is now slowly crawling its way across every taste bud Ive ever had. So, I say with all the sincerity I can muster, Green Market Goddess you shall rue the day you bewitched this boi.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Sep 2014 02:40:29 +0000
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