I was over at Side Salad, and I came across Jeff’s observations about a blog that is devoted completely to “Pepsi Blue,” which is, as you surely have guessed, Pepsi that is Blue. It would appear that, except for the person who decided to start a blog devoted to Blue Pepsi (I have to assume that the author likes the stuff), people didn’t much care for it. Responding to its poor sales, Pepsi decided to discontinue the manufacture of Blue Pepsi. One Blue Pepsi Blog reader lamented the discontinuance of the blue stuff, but others complained that it was too sugary. At least one person noted that (How shall I put this?) that the blue color in the beverage travels unmodified all the way through one’s digestive system. ‘Nuf said.
Blue Pepsi. Who knew? Jeff says he had never heard of it, nor had I until I read about at Side Salad. I can, however, safely say that I would not drink the stuff, even if were offered to me for free. My lack of interest in trying Blue Pepsi has nothing to do with the “too sugary” comment on the Blue Pepsi Blog, or even the other comment about the blue ca-ca thing (as gross as that is). The fact is that I DO NOT drink blue stuff.
But, it wasn’t always that way.
About a dozen years ago, I was out with two of my buddies doing the rounds of the local saloons. As I recall, we started out about nine o’clock, and by around 1 A.M. we found ourselves pretty well oiled in what was to be our final stop. Up to that point we had all stuck to beer – quite a bit of beer, but only beer.
As often happens at such times, one of the guys (OK, it was Yours Truly), said, “Waddya say we do a couple shots?”
The other guys agreed, so the issue then became, what shots shall we drink? There was some discussion of bourbon, but one guy didn’t like that. Someone else suggested Southern Comfort, but that was also nixed (It seems that everyone has a Southern Comfort horror story). Then, as my eyes passed over the array of bottles on the bar looking for a shots candidate, they stopped dead on a bottle of THIS.
I said, “Hey, get a load of that bottle of blue stuff. Waddya say we have a couple shots of that?”
Pete* said, “I dunno. It looks pretty nasty. I don’t think so.”
Vic* added, “No way. I’m not drinking that blue shit.”
I replied, “Come on, you chickenshits. Where’s your sense of adventure? Sure the stuff looks like Windex, but you only go around once. Hell, you drink brown whiskey, so why not blue whiskey? Besides, it might be good. You won’t know unless you try it.”
Neither responded to the challenge.
Not one to give up easily, I said, “You don’t have a hair on your ass, if you don’t drink some of the blue shit.” (At the time, and with my then-current blood alcohol level, this seemed like a particularly learned argument.)
Pete, apparently responding to my persuasive logic, relented and said, “OK, I’ll do a shot.”
Vic stood firm. “There is no way and I mean NO WAY that I am drinking blue shit. You guys are f***ing nuts if you drink that shit.”
Well, just as he apparently didn’t mind being told that he didn’t have a hair on his ass, I didn’t mind being called “nuts,” so Pete and I began drinking shots of the Blue Shit. About three more beers and five or six shots of Blue Shit later, we stumbled out of the place.
The next thing I remember was waking up in the morning feeling as if someone had stuck a red-hot poker between my eyes and set off a dirty bomb in my stomach. I dragged my broken body into the bathroom for a glass of water. On the hangover scale, this baby was a solid 10. I felt close to death. It was then I noticed in the mirror that my tongue was blue, as were portions of my lips. I thought, “Holy shit! My tongue is blue! My farookin tongue is blue!!!! Let me think. Let me think. Blue…..blue…blue lips. Cyanosis!!! Jesus, blue lips means that I am cyanotic. I’m oxygen starved and possibly moments from death. Is my brain about to shut down? Is this how it ends?”
Then the lunacy of the night before dawned on me. I wasn’t cyanotic after all. It was the Blue Shit that colored my tongue and lips. It was the Blue Shit that turned my insides into TNT, and crippled me for the better part of a day.
And that, dear friends, is why Jimbo does not drink Blue Shit. EVER.
* These are not their real names. I doubt either of them would want the world to know that they were part of this sorry escapade. That’s particularly true for the guy who also drank the Blue Shit.