For the record, Forrest often defeats me in this game, which I mentioned briefly in the post before. To be honest, and I say this without ego, the game is often decided by factors other than personal skill. The card distribution is so treacherous, in fact, that once gets the sense that the player’s duty is to more or less make the most of the situation given to them by the spirit of some ethereal bookie haunting the deck. Put on a good show, sure, but especially in the two player game one guy’s going to get all the ship building cards and it’s kind of hard to deal with that. Ordinarily, I’d find this frustrating but in Mag Blast’s case I will make an exception for reasons apparent in the stri–
Hyaa! Gyah! Haugh!
Ahem. Apologies. Danielle and I have a nasty habit of going far out of our way both in travel distance and budget to get ourselves the nice hot chocolate. It’s a bit of a process to make, involving some precise measurement of milk and the gentle, attentive stirring of the powder as the mixture comes slowly to a simmer, supersaturating the beverage with deliciousness that on a scale from one to mocha is an super-great. All went well with this particular operation tonight until I made a critical error.
For Christmas I received a small supply of candy mint stirring sticks to enhance this experience, and upon completion of the usual ritual of preparation inserted one into the cup before taking it upstairs. So familiar was the sight of my cup without the red and white shaft sticking out of it, that I hadn’t noticed the candy cane had melted away and disintegrated into my precious mocha before I had even reached the summit of the staircase.
That is, until I had decided to take a sip whilst polishing off that first paragraph. For a moment I thought I might have absently reached for an open urine sample by mistake. The sensation was akin to getting punched in the back of the tongue, and now all my teeth cry out in unison from under their hyper-concentrated heat-super-activated sugar and mint coating.
Thus beware, readers, the mint stir sticks in otherwise perfectly good hot chocolate. I really think they might have to amputate. My mouth.
Ja.