Oh My Fucking HURK!

As most of my friends know, I am not easily grossed out. Disgusted, yes, but more in that pretentious there's-a-fly-in-my-soup sort of way. Today I was grossed out. Violently. To the point at which while typing to a friend I misspelled several synonyms for vomit in my attempt to quantify the churning of my innards. Behold, the Jones Soda Co. Holiday Pack for 2005:



Brussels Sprout, Cranberry, Turkey Gravy, Wild Herb Stuffing, Pumpkin Pie.

As if that weren't bad enough, that's only the beginning of the insult. They also have a regional pack:



Broccoli Casserole, Smoked Salmon Pate, Turkey & Gravy, Corn on the Cob, Pecan Pie.

"SMOKED SALMON PATE????" Now I am a northwestern girl and I know we love our salmon. But salmon flavored soda? Especially in combination with whatever chemicals make it zero calorie? You've got to be fucking kidding me. If I wanted my mouth to tasted like smoked fish for several hours I'd feast on biker-chick pussy.

The only sodas that don't completely horrify me are the cranberry sauce and the pecan pie. It's pretty hard to fuck up cranberry, and I imagine that the pecan pie tastes a lot like their cream soda ought to, instead of like sugar-sprinkled baby wipe.

Let me digress here to point out the particular shade of putrid that both the Brussels Sprout and Broccoli Casserole sodas are sporting. The slightly browner tint of broccoli one makes it reminiscent of what would be spurting in powerful jets out of your ass shortly after you'd consumed the brussels sprout soda in one sitting. With the opaquity of the liquid, it may even be hiding preissued chunks. Combine that with the Pecan Pie and soon enough you could be bottling your very own version of the Turkey & Gravy soda - homebrew style. And by homebrewed I mean expelled from your rectum straight into the bottle. They should definitely be marketing this as a bowel cleansing system, not an alternative Thanksgiving meal.

Put Your Twat Where Your Beer Is

Recently, Dan Savage had a segment in one of his articles discussing a man who dried his fecal matter, grated it with a cheese grater, and then sprinkled it over the pastries at Fiesta. Imagine for a moment the sensation of biting into one of those pastries. That sensation pretty well approximates how I feel about a woman using her own vaginal yeast as part of her beer recipe.



For one thing, how the hell did she harvest the stuff? Do we even want to know? Plus, chances are she's been porking, because let's face it, a girl with boobs like that is definitely getting porked. So then what if in the process of scraping yeast off her vaginal wall she also got penis skin cells? Lube? A contraceptive?? Plus, if her pubes look anything like that matted bug thatch on top of her head, I'd definitely be skimming that beer for "extras."