There is a really short list of opportunities that I’ve missed, like the chance to own the website domain name to a site called DiscountStripper.com or the fleeting hope for utter rapture that comes from almost winning a BeeGees lunchbox on eBay. Those chances for total happiness have evaporated like a frat boy belch; I try not to pine for them, but some days it’s all I can do not to drive my car through a crowded McDonald’s for thinking of all the ways I reached out for perfect joy but somehow let it slip through my fingers.
And then… this happens, and the world is right again.
Yes, that is a bottle of beer that my husband brought me. It’s called Ho Garden. I realize I’m not spelling it right and I’m probably not pronouncing it right, but who gives a shit? I’m holding a bottle of beer called Ho Garden.
Sadly, this beer tastes exactly like what you would expect a product named “Ho Garden” to taste like. It’s like a cross between day-old thong panties and feet, with a little aftertaste of diesel there at the end.
But again, who gives a shit? I’m holding a bottle of Ho Garden! This will NEVER stop being awesome, even after the crotch-and-diesel taste is nothing more than a memory of beers gone by.