So I bought some fresh squeezed, unpasteurized orange juice from Trader Joe’s. I open it up, pour a cup, and take a swig. Immediately I knew something was not right. It wasn’t that it tasted off, nor was it smelly or fermenty. Instead it tasted like it was carbonated. I suspected immediately that the OJ was bad, but instead of spitting it out, I drank it down because it was hot today and I was dehydrated and thirsty.
Tomorrow morning I will be paying for this lapse in judgement. Massive quantities of gut wrenching projectile diarrhea are in my future. And of course, instead of abstaining from eating the rest of the day to lessen the volume of poo that will be burning through my posterior, I scarfed down a sandwich because I was so hungry. I have now supplied this sketchy orange juice with considerable ammunition for roto-rootering my colon.
This is not the first time I’ve been betrayed by TJ’s OJ. It happened once before and I chalked it down to a momentary blip in sterilization procedures at the factory. But it made me wary of their unpasteurized OJ for a while. Come tomorrow morning, if my prediction remains true, I will be swearing off the TJ fresh squeezed OJ forever and will stick with the more expensive Whole Foods or Evolution fresh squeezed orange juices.
Curse you Trader Joe’s Fresh Squeezed Unpasteurized orange juice, curse you! You have earned my eternal enmity. Forevermore I will cast away my gaze as I stroll down your aisle, never again to be tempted by your beckoning bargain price.
So you bought the juice the first time, tasted the “carbonation”, and then you drank it and experienced hell. Then you bought it again, tasted the “carbonation” again, and still drank it? I think that’s that definition of insanity. On the other hand, maybe you built up an immunity to it after the first time?
The last time was 3/4 a year ago and that one didn’t taste “off.” It seemed like completely normal OJ, except the next day my bowels were on fire. I wasn’t even sure it was the OJ until I drank it again a couple days later and the same thing happened.
This time, the OJ was very mildly “fizzy”, but at first I wasn’t sure if I was just tasting a very acid-y OJ, hence the gulping down of it against my better judgement.
Return it. They’ll give you your money back, and probably check the lot numbers and expiration date against what they’ve got in stock to see if the problem is with all those particular juices or just the one you picked up.
TJ’s has a lot of different orange juices. Was this the type that comes in a plastic jug, or wax carton?
Well, that was anti-climatic. No gut wrenching pain, no ass on fire – just loose watery stools, much like drinking a big glass of prune juice.
At this point I’m debating whether to make the 3 mile schlepp to TJ’s to merely exchange the OJ, or to load up on my favorite constipation-inducing fatty-fried foods, chased down by a cup of special bowel cleansing OJ.
Yeah, I’m surprised. Wonder what bugs get in it. When I make alcoholic cider, I just take unpasteurized apple juice (which I usually squeeze myself from apples) and let it sit in a carboy for a few months. Wonder what the difference between that and Trader Joe’s unpasteurized OJ going off is?
I realized that after the edit window. Nitpicking further, your sentence should be:
I’ll continue to nitpick this here: it’s “climactic.”
A semicolon separates two clauses. A colon separates a follow-on explanation. While your semicolon isn’t technically wrong, a colon more clearly delineates that the following clause is an explanation of your previous clause. Quotes should also be around the object referenced to show that you’re not using it as part of the sentence, otherwise you’re making a statement.
I must say, your climatic should be climactic.
I must say, your “climatic” should be “climactic.”
