Internet comedy legend Seanbaby recently observed in an article for Cracked that 63% of all comments from hack would-be internet comedians invariably involve comparing something they don't like to sticking their dick into some type of whirling blades. This caused me to have a quiet moment of reflection as I realized that I've been guilty of this cyber comedy transgression more times than I can count. I've compared the pain of sitting through the preachiness of Crash to sticking my cock in a blender. I've equated wading through the turgid boredom of the average episode of Mad Men to ramming my member into a meat grinder. I've compared slogging through the generic variety starved corridors of Halo to slamming my dong into a sliding minivan door. For me changing the tool for self-induced cock injury from multiple whirling metal blades to a single slab of metal counts as mixing things up.
From that moment on I swore to try harder with my comedy. I would no longer resort to such lazy and tired comedic similies. Maybe the next time I encounter something I don't like I'll try a classier and more cultured penis-related analogy. Perhaps I'll say that it's worse than having my penis cut off and sold like Napoleon's. Maybe I'll declare that it's worse than sucking the syphilis-infested cock of Frederich Nietzsche. I might condemn a particular video game as less fun than being the penis of Louis XVI of France. I promised myself that my days of being a comedy hack who compares things to sticking my organ into spinning metal blades were over. Then, I purchased a six-pack of Hard Creamer.
Hard Creamer is another in a long line of wussy malt liquors for people who puke if they smell hard liquor and need chasers with their Bud Light. What makes this one special is that the alcohol is mixed with dairy to make it some sort of spiked cream soda. Last Thursday I picked up a six-pack for $8.29 to celebrate finishing my last day at Cracker Barrel and to kick off my two week vacation before I start my next job. To commemorate I decided to buy the silliest-looking, most ridiculous alcohol I could find. Any product with the gall to call itself *snicker* Hard Creamer seemed more than ridiculous enough for my purposes, so I picked it up along with a six-pack of MGD as a fallback option.
As I opened the first bottle of Orange-flavored Hard Creamer I was a little excited. Seeing as how I don't have a vagina and I'm over the age of 16, I pretty much never buy sugary malt liquors such as Bacardi O3, Smirnoff Ice, or Boone's Farm, but I do enjoy the rare occasions that such things are available to me, because while society requires me to project the image of an old, manly, experienced drinker in any party situation so as to avoid ridicule, there isn't anything inherently wrong with alcohol that takes like pop, and sometimes it's fun to feel like a kid again. I expected Hard Creamer to combine the diabetic shock that all of the best thick cream sodas deliver with all of the uninhibted joy that comes with 5% alcohol by volume to make for a memorable night of drinking. I raised the glass, gave an imaginary toast, took a sip...... and immediately spit it the fuck out.
Holy shit, it tasted like a cocktail of Sunkist, three cups of sugar, an entire bottle of cough syrup, a few shots of 99 Bananas, human blood, rancid expired milk, with a small sprinkling of piss. I couldn't believe a beverage that foul could ever make it past product testing and into stores. I took another sip just to make sure I didn't imagine it. This time I gagged. I tried shaking it up and taking a sip and gagged again. This is where I have to break my "No dick grinder metaphor" vow. Trying to drink that shit was like the scene in The Wall where the children are falling into the meat grinder, only instead of children falling victim to a fascist totalitarian regime, they were my penis. Every attempted sip was like my penis falling into that meat grinder over and over. I dumped out the bottle in disgust.
I did the only sensible thing and went straight for my MGD and tried to pretend that I hadn't wasted over 8 bucks on bottled cancer. After going through all six of my actual beers, I was feeling tipsy and brave, so I cracked open another Hard Creamer for round 2. Although it was still every bit as disgusting, I was drunk enough that I didn't care as much. After an hour of taking tiny sips I finally successfully finished a bottle.
The whole reason malt liquor exists is so timid drinkers can actually take in enough alcohol to get to the point that they're able to tolerate the taste of real beer and hard liquor. Hard Creamer is the first malt liquor to ever require you to get drunk off of real beer until you can stand its taste. It's the most ass-backwards product in the history of alcohol. It's like a smoke alarm that only detects smoke that emanates from wood that's already burnt to a crisp. It's like an e-mail spell checker for your sent items folder. It's like a can of mace that only deploys after you've already been raped. It's like the worst consumer product I've ever tasted in my life.
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