After class today (last day of summer term -- woohoo!), I ran my 6 miles on the treadmill (boring but I did it -- woohoo!), and after that, I stopped at Target to pick up a few essentials.
Did angels start singing softly in the background when you read the word "Target"?
Yeah, me too.
Target is pretty much my favorite place in the world, especially when I have the freedom to stop in there by myself.
So, I was stoked about my errand, and having just run 6 miles, I was also a bit parched. Lately, post-run I have been craving lemonade. I think it's the sugar. So, there's a Starbucks in MY Target, and I saw this drink on their board and thought it looked like the perfect post-run-afternoon-shopping-sipping beverage.
Looks delightful, right? It's their "Cool Lime Refresher." So, I ordered myself a "tall" and then set about my task of spending Caleb and Norah's college tuition on endcaps.
Well, one taste of that "refresher," and I nearly spit it out. It tasted like crushed dreams.
With ice and a lime wedge.
I paused, examined the vile drink -- looking for its source of evil -- and then thought perhaps my taste buds were being rash. There have been plenty of beverages I didn't like at first that now rank among my favorites (coffee, beer), so I gave it another try. And, another try, and an effing other try.
No matter how many sips I took, this devil juice did NOT grow on me. If anything, my initial reaction only intensified.
It tasted like a non-alcoholic version of a Mojito. And, I know I live in South Florida so it's blasphemy to say this, but I H-A-T-E Mojitos (plural of that? I don't know if I add the "es" or just an "s"? spellcheck's not being helpful. at all). Probably because I abhor mint, and this foul elixir most certainly contained mint (maybe I should have asked about the flavor before ordering it? that would've been logical).
Anyway, I drank that god awful thing because it cost $3. $3! For a 12 oz (really, after ice, it was probably 8 oz of liquid) cup of skunk juice.
On the way home, this got to me: $3! I could get a half gallon of delightful lemonade from Publix for less than that and be totally happy! By the time I was home, I was angry at Starbucks for selling me such a wicked drink.
So, I emailed them and told them so.
I don't expect anything from Starbucks -- a reply might be nice -- but it felt good typing those 2,050 "characters" to tell them how this drink prompted my entire mouth to nearly host a stomach revolution.