I drank an Americano last night. I haven’t ever had one before, so I don’t know if it’s always like this or just my mix, but somehow it was a perfectly fine drink ruined at the end by the quick but overwhelming taste of Nag Champa. I don’t want to narc on Campari’s Campari recipe but I’m willing to bet there’s sandalwood in there.

Anyway, yuck. Like finding a really tart Sweettart on the floor of a Grateful Dead concert and putting it in your mouth.

And I dragged my whole afghan there only to discover my crochet hook wasn’t in the bag, so that sucked. When I got home, it was on the living room floor.

Somehow it seemed fitting.


5 thoughts on “Americano

  1. I never will again! I have learned my lesson, especially if I start to have acid flashbacks today. Then I’ll know it really was made from the floor of a Grateful Dead concert.

  2. Why did she drink it? it was a happy hour special.

    I learned long ago to steer away from specials – that’s how restaurants get rid of the crap they don’t want :-)

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