Pineapple Orange Banana Juice & Me


I don’t know if I’ve already mentioned it, but I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. I’m not staying up as late as I used to, but when I wake up, I feel like I haven’t slept nearly as long as I actually. I feel as if I’ve slept two hours instead of six.

Tonight was no different. It’s currently 1:38 AM, and I’m not winding down yet. As a matter of fact, I made an impromptu visit to *ominous music* Wal-Mart.

Last night I guzzled away the second half of our delicious Dole’s Pinapple Orange Banana (henceforth known as “POB”) juice. I don’t know what came over me; I just sprinted to the kitchen, poured a monster glass of the stuff, and then came back to finish off the rest of the carton within 10 minutes.

And it was wonderful.

However, the painful truth set in tonight: I was out of POB juice. I was absolutely craving it in a terrifying, primal way. I laid on the couch while Shari was at a females-only Christmas party, and I promise you I could taste the POB juice using only my imagination. But I didn’t want to imagi-taste it! I wanted to DRINK IT!

After hours of torturing myself, I tried to shake the thought off. I couldn’t go get POB juice…I had a dog to look after. My wife was about to come home, and I hadn’t seen her all day. Family time was required; a POB run was out of the question.

Around 12:45 AM, I was lying in bed watching a DVD. Shari had fallen asleep with her arm slung half over my neck (she’s inching her way to murdering me, I’m sure of it), and Apple was asleep on my stomach. After giggling at Frank Costanza freaking out for the 100th time, I decided that I had had enough. The deep, frantic longing was too much for me to bear…

POB run time!

I carefully removed Shari’s from my neck, adjusted Apple (this did NOT make her happy), threw on a hoodie and some slip-on shoes, and hopped into the Element.

I’m sure you’ve heard it said that you can’t go into Wal-Mart without buying something you had no intention of buying, right? Well, I bought four items, with only one carton of POB juice an intentional purchase.

Item #1: POB juice (duh).

Item #2: POB juice – Yes…a second carton.

Item #3: Welch’s Grape Juice – More juice. Is that sad?

Item #4: White chocolate mini Reese’s cups. This item sounds a bit out of place, doesn’t it? Well, it doesn’t mix well with POB juice, I can assure you of that!

So I hopped in the car and discovered that the normally-bustling Airline Drive is a perfect place to enjoy a drive and a swig of POB juice at 1:00 in the morning. I resorted to this primitive state of territorial rage as I popped open the sealed cap and began guzzling POB juice straight from the carton as I tried to steer with only my left eye watching the road. And if a cop had stopped me and challenged me to a duel for my POB juice…gun or no gun, I’d have left a cop in pieces on the side of the road, gladly willing to serve my life/death sentence for that one beautiful, glorious moment of bliss with my long-desired POB juice.

Actually, I would’ve apologized endlessly for swerving like a drunk man while drinking my POB juice. I’m one of those “weirdos” that actually likes cops and goes too far down cooperation road.

Now I just have to think of how I’m going to explain to Shari why there are three new juices in the fridge when she wakes up in the morning. As far as I know, I don’t believe she even knows that I was gone.

Man, I’d really like to get some deep sleep instead of writing stupid blogs about juice at 2:00 in the morning.

I actually just wasted 20 minutes of my life on this post…


One thought on “Pineapple Orange Banana Juice & Me

  1. My guess is you probably only had to explain 2 cartons.

    I’m just saying man, the first step is admitting you have a problem. Only then can healing begin.

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