Fuck Bread: But not literally, that's weird - Cosmic Latte (yeah, that's a colour)

Fuck sliced bread. That’s right, I said it. Sliced bread is not that great, and I’m tired of people giving it credit when it really hasn’t done all that much to earn such respect. Sure, it made breakfast time more convenient since sliced bread became available commercially in 1928, but really – we can’t think of anything that’s been invented or implemented since 1928 that is better than sliced bread? 

According to my research (Thanks, Magic School Bus):

Canned Beer: The first canned beer was made in 1935. And while I’m hardly a big drinker, and I certainly don’t claim to know anything about beer (except when it was first canned.. in 1935) I would have to say that this to me is a much better use of inventing skills than a bread slicing machine. “The greatest thing since canned Beer!” Yes, I quite like that.

Ball point pens: It’s weird to think about your pen in more than a tool to jot stuff down, but we all have a favourite kind of pen. Gel, the ones with the grip, blue or black, the cheap ones, or the super expensive ones that bleed all over the place if you’re a little slow on the up-take. Well, I’ll have you know that they were invented by Ladislo Biro in 1938. For someone who writes a lot of letters, I can appreciate this invention immensely. And of course, I have a favourite pen – I like thick black ink, not gel and I’m not a huge fan of the rubber grip-bit on the end. What about you? Now you’re thinking about your favourite pen, aren’t you? Ha. (I have too much time on my hands, clearly).

Helicopters: Yeah, seriously. If you pick sliced bread as being the greatest thing ever, over a bloody helicopter – you deserve a swift kick in the pants. Igor Sikorsky invented these puppies in 1939 – seriously though. How would we have that amazing scene in Forrest Gump where he arrives in Vietnam, and there’s all of these Helicopters flying into the jungle while Credence Clearwater Revival is blaring in the background – that’s seriously an amazing scene. How could they have created such an amazing piece of cinematography without Helicopters? What if Forrest and Bubba flew to Vietnam on sliced bread? Yeah, totally a different movie.  

Dialysis: Yep, that’s right. It was invented in 1944, if you think that some sort of bread slicing machine is better than a mechanical kidney cleaning, urine machine (I admit, I don’t really know that much about dialysis) then you’ve got some strange priorities. Maybe the only reason you have kidney failure is because of all the sliced, white bread you’re eating. Yeah, who’s laughing now?! (Really.. who is that? It’s rude.) 

Atomic Bomb: Never mind, that’s not a very good example, even though it was invented in 1945 for obvious reasons. (Blowing things up.. specifically Japan, just if you missed that.)

Velcro: That’s right folks, Velcro was invented after sliced bread. And to think, I would have had to learn to tie my own shoes that much earlier had a not had those Pocahontas High-Tops with the sweet pink Velcro on them. Although, I can’t say that Velcro is always better – as an example: my Army uniform used to have a lot of Velcro on it. I don’t really understand the need to replace buttons with Velcro. I’m trying to hide in the wilderness, I’ve been there for days staking out a great claim, ready to fire on you and win the war (da dad dun dunn dunnn!) and I suddenly need something out of my pocket: RRRIIIPPPPPPP. Great, just gave away my position and gotten myself shot in the throat - all because I needed a stick of gum out of my damn Velcro pocket. Despite that oversight, it’s still better than sliced bread. 

Cake Mix: Actually invented in 1949, which I prefer over bread. It’s much easier to add some eggs and stick it in the oven, than it is to get all the stops and make it from scratch.. and we all know what a spectacular cook I am. 

The Pill: Yes, invented in 1954, we now have an oral contraceptive. Seriously though, what an amazing invention. If we had this prior to sliced bread, maybe we wouldn’t have so many damn kids to feed all these slices of bread to – and we could just stick with the conventional.. non-sliced version. Less acne, mood swings and babies for everyone! (I don’t hear those benefits coming from no damn pumpernickel.)

Barbie: Sure, she’s not an accurate representation of women, but He-Man isn’t really an accurate representation of any men I know either – I mean, who wears their hair like that? Yeah, no one. Even though I wore my brother’s clothes until I was 15 and couldn’t fathom that I was a girl and should be more graceful and into pink, I still owned a bunch of Barbie’s, and they were much more fun than bread.

Valium: Uhm, you’re going to try to tell me that sliced bread is better than Valium? Please. Pulease! As if.1961 never felt so good. 

ATM: I can’t think of a time when I would ever need quick access to sliced bread – like, out of a machine, placed in bars and casinos. “Oh, I’ve lost everything I own to a slot machine, I should go over to that ASBM (Automatic Sliced Bread Machine) and get me some nicely sliced bread, make me a sandwich or something.” NO! But, I do often need quick access to cash, and when I don’t have a bank nearby I can burgle, I enjoy the ease of access that an ATM offers me. So, thank you 1969 for being more useful to me than 1928. Also, I’m sorry that you likely contributed to the increase of suicides at casinos.. yeah.. next!

Hole in a drink can: I know that’s a terrible title, but it’s weird to think about that push-tab-hole process on a pop can. Which, leads me to waaay more questions – like, if we have started to can beer in 1935, I’m wondering how people got it out of the can. Is it like, apple juice cans where you pop the two triangle holes in the opposite sides of the can? Or, you used a can-opener like on green-beans and drink it like a cup. I’m more confused than ever. 

Push-tab-pop-can-hole-things > sliced bread.

Disposable Cameras: Yeah, it’s 1986 and suddenly taking and developing photographs is easier and less expensive than ever before. Your parents trusted them with you when you went on school trips, the anticipation of having them developed and then picking them up and leafing through the pictures – or finding one 10 years later, and wondering what the heck is on the film haha. I mean, seriously – sliced bread, over that wonderful feeling of getting those glossy, 4x6s of Grandma’s birthday party where you accidently took pictures of your brother with cheeze-its in his nose, and a couple of photos of your thumb? Yeah, sliced bread ain’t got nothin’ on them cameras!

Viagra: yep, it’s 1995 and suddenly the world seems to make a whole lot more sense. I mean, where would we be without those delightful blue pills? (not that I’m taking them, that’s weird) but I did quite enjoy those TV commercials they had for them with the very happy looking fellow singing that delightful tune. What a catchy jingle! I’m there are at least a few men who would agree that they are better than that silly sliced bread.

And last but not least: 

No-Contact Jacket: It’s actually a jacket that protects the wearer, by electrically shocking attackers or people who touch it. (Imagine Grandma comes in to give you a hug.. ‘Grandma, nooo!” BBZZZZ) Uhm, that’s terrible. Not that I necessarily think this is better than sliced bread, I actually think I have more use for sliced bread than I do for this jacket, but it was invented in 2003 and I have never heard of it. So, I guess based on its ‘useless-to-me-but-still-cool’ factor, it gets on the list. Wow, imagine being attacked while wearing this jacket, what a shock that would be! (Yeah..I went there. Sorry.)

And, that’s really all I have to say about sliced bread. I just can’t see why things are the greatest thing since 1928, when we’ve had these (and other wonderful) inventions since the time of commercially sliced bread. I mean seriously, a jacket that shocks people? Who wouldn’t want that?!

 

  

It's my Bedit! - Ivory

Well, it’s my birthday! 

So, as a thank-you for all your birthday wishes and excitement for my upcoming 23^rd year, I thought I would give back in the form of a blog post – but because it’s my birthday, I made it all about me! (which, they all are, but this one is specific I guess.)

Anyway, I thought I would recap my last 22 years of life in a short way, just to tide you over until our next meeting with a new post I’ve been working on for a while. Not because it’s better than the rest, I’ve just been busy doing other things, well, I’ve been distracted by other things to bother with it. I write a sentence and then find ten thousand other things I would rather do.. and then do them.

  

Also, yes, it’s true! I moved into a little house down the street from my old apartment. 2 bedrooms, very tiny, no closets but yes, it’s very warm! I have the heat cranked, and just in time as they don’t mess around with Autumn in Manitoba. So, I’ve been unpacking, going to town for dinners and celebrations, I had 2 crazy weeks at work, and of course, I left a big assignment to the last minute and it’s due today (on my dang Beeday!) and I haven’t finished it. Aside from that, I did find time to not really unpack, spend unnecessary time at Value Village, ignore the mountain of laundry, go to Walmart, watch a lot of Youtube, buy a 5 dollar movie (and watch it twice) and still haven’t been productive. Either I need more wine and less coffee, or more coffee and less wine. Or, actually, neither of those. More wine and more coffee. Yes, that’s it. 

Anyway, here we go, Erin in a nutshell:

Age 1-3: Eat, sleep and shit. Most babies do that, I was no exception, so, sorry for not being a very exciting newborn-baby-toddler but I’m sure you sucked at it too. 

Age 4: My Uncle Jim cut down a tree in my Grandparents’ backyard, and just as the tree came crashing to the ground I managed to scream “Holy Shit!” and have never seen my Grandma laugh so hard. 

Age 5: Told Christina Faiers that she was not allowed to play in the sandbox with me “because my Dad is in Africa.” Which as a 5 year old, makes complete sense. Don’t question my sandbox authority! 

Age 6: I tried to claim to my First Grade Teacher that my sister Emily, brother Paul and I were all triplets because we all looked the same and had the same Dad. I graduated from sandbox authority to genetic authority, or something like that.

Age 7: I first discovered I was evil.

Age 8: Chicken Pox: thanks Mary Leach, those hallucinations and daytime reruns of Full House were awesome. Next time, stay home you infectious wench!

Age 9: I fell and split my face open on some ice I had already been told I was not allowed to be sliding on in the school yard. After falling, a teacher noticed me wandering aimlessly around the playground, and sent me to the office. I thought I was in trouble, so naturally I didn’t go. After bleeding profusely from the head for a while, I finally wandered inside to the horror of the office staff. I didn’t even get stitches, only some glue and a black eye – what a waste.   

Age 10: Went away to camp with the school, and saw my first belly-button ring. Made it a goal of mine to get one. (Goal succeeded!)

Age 11: Entered the ‘Enrichment Program’ for “Gifted” students. Instead of being enriched I taught my computer to shut down when someone clicks on the Internet Explorer icon, and how to say ‘WASSSSUUUPPPPP’ with a voice command – evidently I wasn’t in the program very long because I wasn’t taking my enrichment “seriously enough”. 

Age 12: Fractured a finger on a classmate’s pants playing capture the flag. Worst. Gym Class. Ever.

Age 13: Got my first job working at Burger King! Ya’ll wanna Whopper?!

Age 14: Shoplifted from Chapters for the first (and only) time. I was so annoyed at not being caught I returned all of the books a week later and told them I found them in the bathroom. They weren’t even books I wanted to read! Being 14 isn’t good for your brain, it makes you do some weird things.

Age 15: Was fired for the first (and only) time – the infamous Zesty Sauce Showdown will go down in BK history. 

Age 16: my Grandpa took me to write my G2 driver’s license, even though Grandpa had been letting me drive him around for a couple of years. I managed to run a red light on the way to the test, and even though I passed with a perfect score, he wouldn’t let me drive home. 

Age 16.5: Joined the Army for about 15 minutes, managed to not shoot myself in the foot (or, anywhere else for that matter). 

Age 17: Second fast-food job at A&W, they hired me because I told them Root Beer was disgusting and I would never drink it. Guess they figured I wouldn’t steal from them or something. 

Age 18: I tried to vote for the first time, like a good, informed citizen. I was denied to vote by the oldest woman alive, and was then lectured about why it was important for women (such as myself) to vote as we fought for the right to do so. Great: THEN WHY NOT JUST LET ME VOTE, DAMNITT.  We went down the street and I successfully voted.

Age 19: Threw up Vodka and Pineapple in the Junction bathroom – pretended it didn’t happen and continued on with my celebration night. Lesson? Never eat Hawaiian Pizza and party hard. 

Age 20: Beat teen pregnancy.

Age 21: Was denied purchase of alcohol at an American liquor store because ‘Ontario doesn’t sound like a real place’.

Age 22: Graduated University successfully and still managed to fall off a treadmill and smash my face into a bloody pulp, likely knocking out a few of those brain cells I “enriched”.      

What’s in store for me in the next year? Well, if it’s anything like the last 22, I’m sure it will be an adventure that is filled with head wounds, vodka and embarrassing myself in public. Ahh, just the way I like it.

(Thanks again for the Happy Birthdays.. and wasting 4 minutes on my drivel !)

It's gettin' hawt in hurr (That's a complete lie.) - Apricot

My landlord is a scumbag. Like, my rent is really cheap, and my place is pretty big and has some nice features and whatever. But, despite all of that.. it’s missing one key ingredient.

Heat.

Yes, you’ve read it. It’s missing the essential component of comfortable living in Manitoba, where it’s -40 like, 11 months of the year. 

Anyway, I know I have to have maintenance of like, 20 degrees or something between the 1^st of September, and the 1^st of June. Which, in Manitoba means that for June, when it snows – you’re shit out of luck.

Anyway, so after politely asking my landlord when the heat is going to arrive, and then reminding him a few times that my apartment still does not have the ability to be heated, I have decided to take revenge the  best way I know how – effectively. 

Now, I should note, that I brought a space heater with me when I moved because my office in North Bay was icy at all times. I was worried that my office in Manitoba would be the same – the Landlord also supplied me with a space heater ‘in case I got cold’ when I moved in and I thought: ‘Okay, well I’ll put one in the living area, and one in my bedroom, and that should do me just fine until we get the mess sorted out.’ Well, the heat isn’t working because when they renovated.. or ‘renovated’, they disconnected the radiators, and installed these new efficient electric heating panels. Which, are great – but they aren’t hooked up to anything, so.. they’re purely for decoration. So, they don’t have the new panel hooked up properly, so only half of the outlets in the apartment work, which means I had to be very selective of where I put stuff I needed to plug in. 

If by chance, I plug too many things in, or have too many things running at the same time (for instance, the coffee maker and the toaster) it knocks the power out in the whole apartment, and the panel is locked up in the storage room. Lucky for me, he showed me where the panel was, and which switch to flick should there be an issue. Unlucky for me, he locks it behind these annoying, cheap wood slat doors. I however, am not afraid of a challenge, so I usually climb up on the gate, stick my arm through and mash buttons until the power switches back on in my place. I also swear a lot. 

So, we have the added loveliness of a dodgy power supply, which means that I can’t actually run the two space heaters at the same time (1 in the bedroom and 1 in the living room) because it knocks the power out. So, I am forced to warm up the living room, and actually PRE-HEAT my bedroom when I go to bed, because it’s hard to sleep when your breath comes out in clouds. It’s seriously annoying. 

Anyway, so as we approach the winter season, this will be my first winter in Manitoba, and I’m nervous. I did buy and bring a parka (yes, a ‘two piece’ parka for those of you who keep asking me what kind of parka) but that doesn’t really mean that I want to wear it inside, and also to bed. I’ve come up with some ways that I’m going to get back at the bastard for being annoying about my power supply and heating situation. (and yes, I’ll be calling the tenant board, so please don’t email me phone numbers and make comments about the fact that I’m too daft to figure out the phone to just ring them myself.) 

1.       There is a strict no-dog policy in effect in my building. I’ve decided to have my laptop announce when I get an e-mail, and set the alert as a series of annoying, barking dog noises. I’m then going to hook the computer up to the speakers I have, turn it up to full blast, and spend my work day emailing myself to set off the notification. I’m then going to act dodgy, yell commands like “SIT!” when I’m home, and laugh when the neighbours (who are also afraid of dogs) complain and have the landlord come and check it out. I’ve not set a time limit on this, I think it would be fun to have it go on for the duration of my stay.

2.       I’ve had water issues in the past. The landlord came, patched up the roof and the water was no longer a problem. Well, it’s unfortunate that suddenly every time it rains, there ends up being exactly one large cupful of water on the floor suddenly. I plan to ‘notice the water’, call the landlord in an uncharacteristically frantic, and damsel –in-distress kind of way, and after he drives out the hour it takes to get here, I’ll have him up on the roof looking for the ‘source of the water’. This will go on for a few times, and then I will one day call and exclaim happily that the water is finally fixed, and thank him immensely. Suddenly, hottest day of the year, not a cloud in the sky – water is back! (insert evil laugh)

3.       Successfully  complete the damage-deposit inspection so I can get my cheque back, and then steal inconspicuous things such as the clothes rod in the closet (which is huge, and custom made), some switch plates, the showerhead and perhaps some shelves out of the cupboards. Yeah, that’ll show him.

4.       Again, after completing the deposit inspection, I will then take a very nice and clean paint brush, and some water in a nice bucket, and paint huge wet spots on the newly plastered ceiling.

5.       There’s a weird space above the window in my living room, as well as in the bedroom. Because I’m in a walk-down, the windows are quite high and actually brush up to the ceiling. If you look through the window, there is a small ledge where the new ceiling was built slightly below the cusp of the top of both windows. It should also be noted that I have all the windows frosted out, so you can’t actually see through them anymore. Perfect. This spot is ideal for hiding keys or valuables, in case you have a break in or whatever. It’s also great for hiding a banana in each ledge, because I’m very worried about stealing my beloved fruit. I will then move out, and forget they are up there, and suddenly not understand why the apartment stinks because when I lived there it smelled fine.

6.       I have some strong friends, and I own some cool tools. I’m going to use both to tighten all the taps in the apartment on move out day, soooo tight that they are impossible to unstick via regular human hands/strength.

7.       I’m going to clean the stove so well, that all of the numbers and temperature indicators are cleaned off, and there is no way to tell which nob does what, or how hot the oven is. Nothing a little nail polish remover and a cheap kitchen appliance can’t handle.

8.       I’m going to bake a delicious pizza, and let it cool in the oven.. for about 6 weeks.

9.       I’m going to switch all the breakers on the breaker panel (provided he gets it hooked up finally..) so they are obviously in the ‘off’ position.

10.   I will then remove all of the light bulbs in the entire apartment, and put all of the light covers back on as though nothing was changed. The lights won’t work, and they’ll think: ‘genius, the panel has been switched!’ and switch the panel back. I wish I could see their faces when the success of the panel switching mysteriously doesn’t solve the lighting problem.

11.   I’m going to switch the lock quietly when I move out, and make a big production of handing the keys back to landlord. Meanwhile, I’m going to leave and lock the door with new lock and the new keys, and throw the new keys in the dumpster.   

12.   Red dye in the toilet tank, making the toilet super hard to clean. Or, just red. Or, well, I haven’t thought that one through, but hopefully it stains or is kind of, just a pain.

13.   Finally, I’m going to paint the apartment 1 shade darker than the current paint colour, but adding some of my own mix so it still doesn’t match an actual store colour - so you can’t tell that it’s different (it’s all the same colour) and hang some pictures. Then, when I move out and he goes to paint over the cracks and holes in the plaster, I’m going to laugh at his inability to match up the paint.

Yes, I know what you’re thinking: ‘God Erin, you’re actually just a big fuckin’ dick.’ And my response is ‘Yes, I am a big fuckin’ dick, but I wouldn’t have an issue if I wasn’t stuck in a walk-down in Manitoba, in the winter WITH NO HEAT.’  

Your move, landlord.

Tea Bags VS. Dime Bags: Rufous

I am drinking a tea. Not weird right? Obviously, I mean we all know I have a drinking problem. I mean, tea.. TEA drinking problem. Which is fine, damage seems fairly minimal, and withdrawal isn’t the worst thing I’ve experienced, definitely something I can handle. I like all kinds of tea, as long as it had stuff in it I like. For example: I dislike cinnamon, therefore I dislike teas that have a detectable amount of cinnamon in them. Outside of that really, I don’t mind. Unless of course someone makes Mustard Tea. Or Orange Tea. I hate Oranges. And Mustard. Bleck.

It’s only about real oranges though. Orange flavoured things are my favourite. Real oranges? 

Nasty. 

Could you imagine steeped Mustard Tea? Gross.

I also thought about how much tea I drink, and the places that I drink it. And then I thought – what if I replaced tea drinking (at the volume in which I do) with something else. Like, sandwich eating? Could you imagine if I went shopping and stopped in for a sandwich beforehand.. and shopped and ate a sandwich at the same time? I would have to get a sandwich cozy. With a strap. To carry it around with me. If I ate sandwiches at the rate, and in the places I drink tea, people would certainly be offended. I’m also hardly a nice eater (I try, but I just wasn’t born to eat neat) so I think my disgusting consumption of a sandwich in weird places at alarming rates would turn a few heads. 

I have seen this image floating around the interwebs, and although I haven't seen whatever movie this is from, I do know she's a Brit, and it makes me giggle every time.

 

So, what if I  replaced tea drinking with Meth taking? I know, that’s crazy. And I understand it’s a serious problem, and real people suffer, and I shouldn’t make light of it.. but I have short comings too. It just doesn’t happen to be being addicted to meth. I made the choice to be addicted to something that was more socially acceptable. So, I guess here’s a warning for those Meth-Heads who are reading this (which, I’m sure is a massive number).   I’m going to talk about Meth.. and I’m going to compare it to doing other things, and my goal is that those comparisons are funny. 
Or at least sarcastic enough to appeal to some people. Most people. ALL THE PEOPLE. 

(Not to be confused with mAth heads. I hate math. I would rather do meth than math.)

Okay, so Tea Vs. Meth – here we go.

It’s not weird at the dinner table: I think that when someone has me over for dinner, and they offer me a beverage that it would okay if I said:

 “Oh, a tea would be lovely with my dinner, thank-you.” 

I think it would be weird if I was to instead say:

 “Oh, some meth would lovely with my dinner. Perhaps you could get me a belt or strap of some sort, or wait, could you give me a hand injecting between my toes before you sit down? Yeah, that’ll be fine, thank-you.” 

 Not okay. I think there’s something in there about not engaging in any sort of touching or action regarding your feet at the table either. Especially mine, they’re ugly as shit.
(See? Shortcomings.) 

It’s okay to share with your Mom and little sister: I think that when I spend quality time with my Mom that offering her a pot of tea isn’t something to think about too much. I mean, it’s delicious, it’s easy to make – and I agree that meth is too, regardless of your chosen method of intake, but I think my Mom would be offended if I said to her:

 “Oh, would you like a shot of meth? I’m just brewing some.”

 I also think people might have reservations about coming over if I were to offer the latter as a menu option – I also don’t think they’d let their little sister come over either. I like to entertain (I’m not good at it, but it’s still fun) but I don’t think I should be part of the entertainment. Or, if I am (which, if I’ve gotten into the wine sometimes happens) I don’t want it to be because I’m being arrested coming down from a meth high after offering to your little sister. Tea? A much safer, more legal alternative.  

 

It’s universally accepted in public: I say this loosely (I’m not really.. sure you can say things tightly..) because there are a lot of places that frown upon bringing in outside food or beverage. Sometimes it’s because it’s a restaurant.. and that’s weird, and sometimes because it’s a store and they don’t want your sticky fingers all over their merchandise. I almost understand both, but I never follow the rule. I have been to numerous restaurants with Tim Horton’s, movie theatres, bars and the mall/clothing store. I think either people see that I’m ordering something, so they should accept my business however small it may be – or they see the Tim Horton’s cup and realise that their product is far inferior to the great Tim and have no business suggesting otherwise. I think though, that if I brought meth in to a bar, or restaurant and had it sitting on the table, or were having it in addition to my meal, it’s not.. really a good idea. I also think if I were to stroll downtown while enjoying a nice cuppa*, people wouldn’t be too upset – they would think I was even normal (whatever that means these days), but to stroll downtown enjoying some meth I think might be an issue. I know, I’ve seen it in Peterborough too – I’m just saying me personally.

*Cuppa – noun,  A cup of tea: "a good strong cuppa”, contraction of “Cup of”.

It’s good to Go: I think about the times I have spent in the airport, and those Ion Scanners they have. No one is looking for trace amounts of tea. Or when you go across the border, and you’ve hit the last Tim Horton’s in Canada because you know it just isn’t the same at Tim Horton’s Abroad. So, I walk through the airport with a cup of tea (but only until a certain point, because then they make you throw it out or whatever) but I can`t say that going through the Ion scanner would make me nervous after an extra large tea. Extra large meth session? Yes, I think that would make me nervous. Or, going over the boarder drinking a delicious beverage, and having a conversation with the Border Guard: 

“No, Officer – nothing to declare.” “Are you bringing anything into the country?” “Yes, large amounts of tea. Strictly recreational use, and I might give some to the neighbours.” 

Vs.

 “Are you bringing anything into the country?” “Yes, large amounts of meth. Strictly recreational use, but I might also sell some to the neighbours.”

It’s weird that those two interactions have a very different result. 

Also, I don’t think I would traffic in tea. But, I would tea in traffic. 

Few adverse health effects: Sure, tea has caffeine and that stuff is addicting and has withdrawal symptoms and stuff, but I think it would be fairly easy to quit comparatively. Also, if you don’t like tea, you just don’t drink it – if you don’t like meth.. it doesn’t matter, because it is addicting as shit and you can’t help it. I can’t see tea rotting the teeth out of your head either – nobody would look at you and say “Gross, I think she has tea-mouth.” I also don’t think that people would feel the need to consume tea in ways other than their mouth – I can’t say I’ve ever thought to myself “Oh, this tea isn’t making me feel the way it used to. I better start injecting it.”

People don’t get upset when I cook it: (Yes, I know the correct term is ‘brew’ – it’s strictly for joke purposes and apparently you aren’t okay with that.. how did you make it this far into it if you’re too serious minded to accept that I suggest tea is ‘cooked’?)  Anyway. I think it says a lot about something when I can just use a kettle to make some tea, whereas I would need a PhD in Chemistry to make meth and not blow my face off. And, when people came over and said “Oh, smells like you’re making tea!” and “Oh, smells like you’re making meth!” it’s definitely a different conversation. 

        Great, gender neutral gift: I think it goes without saying that Tea AND Meth make great, gender neutral gifts. It’s one of those gifts that keeps on giving. I mean, they’re both easy to wrap in a cute box, they’re both fairly readily accessible, you can share if you want to, fun for the whole family. I definitely think, in this category they are certainly interchangeable. I also know what everyone is getting for Christmas this year. Trust me. I now know some people who can help me out. (I think I stepped away from the point I was trying to make about being addicted to one or the other. I’ll try to get back to that now.)

Ov     Overdose: Sure, it’s possible to drink way too much tea. I’ve been there. But at the rate in which I consume it, I can’t say that I’ve ever overdosed. Or, I have and survival is pretty guaranteed. It keeps me up if I have it too late, and makes me dehydrated or whatever, but I can’t say I’ve had to worry about literally killing myself via tea overdose. Meth on the other hand, especially while used by rookies – can cause immediate death. So, effectively Meth = Death? A nice rhyme for the kiddies. 

         
          The only mug shot is on the cup: It’s true! I mean, could you imagine if you were arrested for selling tea? Or drinking tea? Or giving tea to children?! It’s craziness! Meth will get you a mug shot that is significantly less appealing than some cute puppies or inspiring words printed on the side of a cup. And for that matter, you could show your mug shot to your friends:

      “Hey look at this picture of this sweet mug!” “Wow, that’s super cute, and you took a ‘mug-shot’ – get it? I’m so punny!”

vs.

“     "Hey, check out this picture of my sweet mug!” “Wow.. you got arrested? For giving Meth to kids? Seriously man. You have a problem.”

Explain that one to Grandma. 

          I can joke about being addicted to tea without upsetting the neighbours: It's one thing to say as you walk into the house holding a Tim's cup during a polite interaction with the neighbour and say: "Oh, just getting my fix!" and then mock-toast them as you enter. It's a completely different thing to have a syringe ready to go as you walk into the house and say with a creepy smile "Oh, hey! Just getting my fix!" and mock-toast them with your hands full of needles and spoons, and other meth-related-things. 

       It's okay if the dog gets into it: Yes, I've seen dogs who tear up garbage, and there's always a stoner movie where the lovable pet gets into the brown bag of weed and makes a great scene out of chillin' out because he's all high n'shit. But seriously, if the dog gets into like, your tea stash, you're usually okay. I mean it makes an awful mess and stuff, but at least the dog's health isn't really at risk. Imagine your lovable pet got into the meth stash? 
 
         And sure, it's funny. But seriously, it's likely your pet would never be the same - and it may become severely addicted to meth.
Only takes once, you know. 

and finally: 

It's good hot, cold and with milk: Firstly, to those of you who are cream-drinkers disgust
me. I think that crap is just nasty and belongs in the back of the fridge where it can stay until I die and someone else has to clean it out for me. (and my Mom loves it, so don't think I discriminate, I still think her coffee choices are inferior despite the fact she birthed me.) Outside of that, having 0 experience in the Meth department, I think it's safe to say that Meth is the black coffee of drugs. You just ingest 'as is' - don't usually bake it into delicious brownies, or stir into your morning brew. It's just Meth. And, on top of that, it would probably be really gross with milk. Tea and Milk? a delicious combination of things.

So, I guess for those of you who were really struggling with which substance to go with, it's
safe to say that Tea is the ultimate choice. I mean, it's fairly inexpensive, most places sell it, it's hardly debilitating, and it's okay to have while working.

I chose the colour Brown, because tea and Meth-Mouth are brown.. gross.
Until next time!