This morning I decided why not have a hot cup of expired tea? I mean it only expired in August and the box was still wrapped in cellophane. As you read on the side of the box, the "Blendmaster's Notes" if you will..."This uplifting blend combines spicy ginger - valued for its piquant taste and reputation as a digestive aid - with a cheerfully bright lemon flavor and aroma. You might say that the pairing of lemon and ginger hits 'just the right note' anytime you need a soothing and rejuvenating cup of tea." This description came right off of the pen of Charlie Baden...a BLENDMASTER. I trusted Charlie.
I said to myself, what do I need for this Friday at work? I NEED to calm my tummy with a digestive aid. Then I said, what way can I do this? My first thought was Tums. Since I did not have that, I looked at this box of expired tea, and saw Charlie's note to me. I thought..."Piquant taste...what the hell is that?" Then I thought..."Charlie is a damn blendmaster...you know what you are NOT, Lori? A blendmaster of tea. Trust Charlie...trust. Put your faith in people Lori, they won't do you wrong. I mean this tea is supposed to "hit the right note" if you know what I mean? I don't know what that means, but a blendmaster does...and I should have faith. I wanted something soothing...the box suggested I would get soothing. Let's do this shit.
I sashayed upstairs, tea bag in hand, grabbed a ginormous mug and hit 12 oz on the Keurig, people...because I am committed to the calmness this tea will not only provide my tummy but to ME...my soul...my heart. My aura even.
As the searing hot water hit the tea bag...an aroma of familiarity wafted to my nostrils. It was one that did not evoke thoughts of peace love and comfort. It was one that left me feeling disturbed. A bit unsettled...but yet I couldn't piece this together. How on earth could this expired tea...this blendmaster's highest accolades be anything but a succulent warm cup of 100% pure happiness?! It can't be the tea making me feel uncomfortable right?
Ah...jolly good right it was. When it finally hit me, I realized I was making a mug of hot mop water. It was like Mr. Clean himself was inside that big mug rolling around, loofah-ing his hairy armpits, farting lemon essence in the hot water, scrubbing ginger crystals off of his pubes and winking at me. It was pure unadulterated poison tea. It was not lemon, it was not ginger...it was CHEMICAL DEATH. I am positive I stopped my own self poisoning today. I mean, I did drink a sip, so IF I croak, please have them test the teabag in the huge mug on my desk. Then have them contact Charlie Baden the blendmaster and ask him what the fuck piquant ginger is, because I think my hubby and son can win some cash in a wrongful death suit. I mean if I am going to pass on, I feel like they deserve some money in place of my glowing personality.
