Riley vs. the Budweiser Chelada
In an attempt to continue the tried and true tradition here at 3hree Things in which I seek out (arguably) disgusting foodstuffs, ingest them, and write about my findings, I've decided to expand the breadth of my sampling and dive into the world of questionable beverages.
This week, I go to war with the Budweiser Chelada.
1) What They Want You To Think It Is
The Chelada is a wondrous blend of "the best of two worlds": the "refreshing" drinkability of Bud Light paired with the "unique" clam-infused nectar of the lycopene gods, Clamato. It's sprinkled with a pinch of salt and spritzed with a tangy niblet of lime, shoved into a shiny 24-ounce aluminum tall boy, and rushed to a fridge in your local liquor store where it patiently awaits the glorious day when you pop its top, pour its majesty into your face hole and let it frolic in your tummy.
2) What The Can Wants You To Think It Is
Ah, it's "La Combinación Perfecta." The Perfect Combination. The. Perf—Wait, hold on. TIME OUT.
/looks up meaning of "perfect"
Perfect ( adj) 1 a: being entirely without fault or defect: flawless
/thinks of Bud Light
/thinks of Clamato
/gets that weird pre-barf reflux where it tastes like you have a mouthful of pennies
3) What It Really Is
Disgusting. I would posit that nobody has ever uttered the words, "Man, this Bud Light is really tasty, but you know what it needs? CLAM CHOWDER." But here we have the two, the most unlikely bedfellows, married in a can and mass-produced for somebody or nobody to enjoy. And, thank God it only comes in 24 oz cans, because if there's anything you want a lot of, it's something awful.
The fart that slips out of the can when you pop the top is like getting yelled at by a drunken fisherman, like lowering your head into a bucket of chum. Deeeeeelicious. Gah. Here we go.
SIP NO. 1: People tend to shy away from beer in a can, because the metallic taste is off-putting. This is like trying to pick up a handful of change off the floor of a bar . . . with your mouth.
SIP NO. 2: I'd imagine this is the closest a person can get to performing cunnilingus on a dead mermaid.
SIP NO. 3: Remember that time in high school when you had that house party at your friend's house and you guys ordered pizzas and got a keg and you had so much fun that you ate like half a pizza and totally forgot to stop drinking and then laughed so hard that you barfed on your friend's couch?
SIP NOS. 4-5: So, this is what regret tastes like.
SIP NO. 6: I've actually been vurping (vomit + burp) after every sip since #2, and it turns out that washing it down with something that tastes exactly like what's coming up tells me that this cycle ends badly.
SIP NOS. 7-9: I realize that this is going to have to come out of me at some point.
SIP NO. 10: Chelada wins. I tap out. Half a can remains.
I think it's safe to say I've had my last Chelada.
This column appeared in print as "Riley vs. the Chelada."
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