Tea Time

My roommate knocked on my door.

"So I've tried this tea... I had the mint one, but it tasted exactly like water. I don't really like tea, so here, have this." He handed me the box of Bigelow tea bags. What an odd name. Like that movie.

A few hours later, I decide to make a cup, just to see if it's any good. I open up the rectangular, yellow thing and look at the six different teas that range from "Green Tea" (okay, normal), "Earl Grey" (ooh, exotic), "English Teatime" (uhhh), and "'Constant Comment'" (well... huh), each in a different color. Obviously, "Lemon Lift" is in a yellow bag, "Green Tea" in green, "Plantation Mint" in a darker.

I walk out to the kitchen and my roommate joins me - we're going to try every tea and see how they are. I start with "Constant Comment," a "tea flavored with rind of oranges and sweet spice." Exotic. Interesting. Five minutes later, and it tastes like water. Wait... hm. Another sip. Ahhh.... there's a slight aftertaste of weak oranges.

My roommate goes for green tea, and I, "Lemon Lift." The first is bland, and he used two tea bags. Mine is pleasant and unoffensive, with a nice lemony taste on the way out. I'd keep drinking mine!

And now, we have one left that neither of us have tried: Earl Grey. "Perfectly flavored with natural bergamot." Bergamot. Okay. The tea bag announces the tea's aristocratic history. Well, if the history's behind it...

My roommate smells the bag.

He retches. I, of course, must know how awful it is for a man like him to react like that!

Oh god.

Into the microwave the water goes. He then puts in three tea bags so that there's actually some strength in this batch.

The brew smells as potent as the bag itself was. My roommate readies himself.

He immediately spits it into the sink and sticks his head under the faucet. Not only was it scaling-hot (duh), he says it tastes even more vile than it smells.

Meanwhile, I'm laughing my ass off at him. Regaining my composure, I take a drink.

Oh god. No. Why would you drink this. Why. Why. Why does it have the reputation that it does. No. No no no no no.

We try adding sugar. Oh god. Now it tastes horrible AND it's too sweet.

Fuck you, second Earl Grey. Fuck your nasty ass tea. You could have smelled it and thrown it away. But no, you brought it back to England and let it proliferate. Fuck you, sir.

What Brit Lit amounts to

I apologize to my multitude of adoring fans for abandoning the blog, but I've been distracted by a lot of nothing and then a lot of everything. I'm going to continue to write to this, though! Expect some crossposts from the newspaper, too.