Yes, after my relatively  preasant saint patric's  day experience (liqor makes me talk in engrish sometimes) i decided it was time to atone for my sins of actually not  completely hating myself for doing this. I decided that I needed somkething that was harder than rum or vodka. I needed a near 90 proof bottle of goldschlager to go with my wholesome breakfast cereal. Needless to say, I am a monumental dumbtard.

 

So I sat down to my computer desk to do my writing research. I had my bag of cinamon toast crunch, just as I remember from my childhood, and my 375 ml of Goldschlager, just as I don't remember from last week. For those who don't drink, good idea. But as I've found out you can eat your liquor too, so  you ahve a way out if you've only sworn off drinking.

 

And for thjose who really don't drink

Pussies.

 

And for those pussies I say this: Goldschlager is a cinamon flavored liquor made in some godforsaken mountain insanitarium somewhere in the swiss alps by escaped Nazi molesters. Not Nazis persay, just people who like to molest escaped nazis. They have a rather close knit online fetish community, you see.

 

 

Despite claiming to be a schnapps, its harder than most tequila. So it was the perfect way to start my day. Lacking a bowl I just poured the cereal into my mouth followed by a generous helping of my gold flaked muse.

 

 

Pain. As though my mouth were on fire. The heat of my body was evaporating the ethanol which somehow superheated and burned  the fuck out of my mouth. I had to slosh the pastey crunchy mess around with my mouth open, all the time trying to swallow it. One rule I have kept to since my first immature dabblings into, well,  epic immaturity, has been that once it enters my mouth, it must not leave,. I must keep the concoction down in order for the experiment to be a success. There was no flavor of cinamon, toast, or crucnh, just pain.

 

And keep it down I did. So well that I decided I needed to try it again. Shake shake, pour pour. I thought I'd given myself a smaller dose of the booze. Somehow this made it evaporate more. My mouth tasted like it was filled with rubbing alcohol. I considered trying to exhale it as a flame thrower, but realized that my lips and monitor would be the first things to fall victim to such actions, and that this violated the one rule of cereal and liquor pairings. Also it would have been a total rip off of that scene in Lock Stock And Two Smoking Barrels except that there would have been no fire extinguisher handy, and I  somehow doubt the stuff needed a lighter to ignite going by the sensations in my mouth.

 

 

But I figured that small an amount of suffering wasn't enough for you people. I'd try it one more time .Maybe this time it would be some grand cathartic process that would do....... something, yes. So  here goes,m as I write this now, already  getting quite drunk due to some smapling of hte goldfschalger before expierminetionats began in order to ensure its purity. This time I add the liquor first and then the crunchy bits.

Liquor went in and  felt ok,  typical goldschlager right.

When I added the cinamon toast things started to get hot,  and my lips were coated wit htasty cinammon sugar bits.

 

Then the heat came. I don't know whty, but they have a chemical reaction that somehow increases the heat and pain and, possibly, alcohol content of the schlager. How is this possible? I do not know, and it terrifies me.

 

I finally chewed it around. Once more there was no taste of the cinamon toast crucnh. My taste buds had simply shut down. ,But now my mouth  tastes like a cinamon tictac. And I feel kind of funky.

 

This is without a doubt the least pleasant combination I've ever tried. Please... never again. I'm moving on to safer ideas, perhaps I'll emulate my companion Chris The Wizard by just conductiong horrif8ical experiments on Marshmellow peeps.