Oh, Pa!

YAAAAY! FAKE ORANGE JUICE, KOREAN STYLE!

Now that Dad is retired, he keeps himself busy. Which is a good thing, because he'll go insane otherwise. Busy means, at least, weekly trips to my palatial estate. We usually do a food trade: Dad brings whatever, and I satisfy his sweet tooth.

Dad hands me a can of this orange juice. It's not really a juice. It's orange DRINK (there's 31 grams of sugar in this bad boy.) Big difference. But to my parents "juice" and "drink" are the same. They poured Hi-C down my throat for years. Anywho, dad swears this Bon-Bon crap is the "best orange juice I've ever had. It has pulp in it." I didn't have the heart to tell him you can buy orange juice with pulp in it.

The drink vs. juice argument is not what fascinates me here. What does fascinate me are all the subliminal messages on this can of swill!

1. A drink with "sac"!? I was prepared to see a pair of kiwis on the underside of the can.

2. The orgasmic orange. Look at that pulsating orange shooting pulp all over the place!

3. Bon Bon. Didn't Ricky Martin want me to shake my "Bon Bon"!?

Since this is the "best," I had to give it a try. Would I tingle? Would I explode with pleasure just like the orange?

I chugged. Yes! I feel something. I chugged some more! Again! And Again! And then-- nothing.
I felt empty. Just like the calories in this "juice." Empty, just like a tramp that takes a dude home at the end of the night and realizes he's not Prince Charming.

xoxo,

RiRi