Alternate titles:
The Nog that Wouldn’t Die
The Nog that Stole Christmas
Merry Christmas Charlie Nog
Here’s a little secret about me… I love eggnog. I would just hook it in to my viens if it wasn’t the delicious noggy taste that I was after. I’d probably kill someone to get at some nog. I’m not so noggy-whipped that I would kill a complete stranger for a glass of nog, but I am crazy enough to stage a competition where I lure human contestants to my secret island and hunt them like animals, only allowing them to carry a knife and then giving them a 3 hour head start before chasing them down, killing them, skinning them, and collecting their heads for trophies that I keep in a grotesque trophy room. And then have some nog when I’m done.
When I was old enough I started putting liquor in my nog. At first it was interesting, but I abondoned it after a while because it ruined the delicious flavor of the nog?
Have you had nog? It’s like a cool, creamy blanket wrapping your insides with eggs, cream, sugar, and nutmeg. A blanket that also scratches your head and rubs your feet and maybe gestures for the bedroom with it’s eyebrows from time to time. Whatever, that’s a bad analogy.
I’ve tried all kinds of nog. I’ve had nog out of punch bowls. Nog in cartons. Nog in plastic jugs. Nog in single serving “Chug” sizes. I even once had a nog suppository that blossomed up my digestive tract to make all my burps smell like Christmas, and all my farts smell like Uncle Sal.
But my life was incomplete somehow. There was something missing from my nogcrophilia. I could feel it.
Then one day it appeared in front of me as plain as day.
Canned nog.
I begged and pleaded with ACWF to allow me to purchase it but her look alone, which said, “Are you freaking kidding me? You want to buy, and then consume, eggnog that comes in a can? Are you crazy? That looks disgusting! What the hell is wrong with you? I can’t believe I agreed to marry you. Uggh! I can’t believe I have sex with you!” disuaded me from purchasing the nog.
Every time we went to the store I would make puppy-dog eyes at the cannog, and then at ACWF, but her heart is stone, and she makes flour from the bones of children to use in waffles, and did not relent.
One day we walked into the store and the cannog was gone! I cursed ACWF’s steely heart and fell to the floor weeping. Wanting to forgo any further embarassment, ACWF lifted me from the floor and promised that we could buy the cannog if there were any remaining in the store.
The cannong had been in a special display at the entrance of the store, kept away from the other nog containers. I knew that if they had it, it would have been remaindered there… and I was right! I grabbed the can of nog and rushed home to dive into it right away. It’s too bad that I can’t read directions.
So I had to pour the nog into another container. My water bottle.
Once I’d gotten to that point, I knew that I’d be tasting sweet nog soon, and so I quickly poured myself a glass.
I lifted the nog to my lips like it was a holy sepulchre, and after waiting as long as I could possibly stand to, took a sip.
My immediate reaction wash to wash my mouth out with the sweat collected from running socks at the end of a marathon of people with athlete’s foot and horrible fungal problems.
It’s the worst nog I’d ever had in my life. You could make better nog if you just put whole eggs, shell and all, and rotten milk in a blender, belnded until the shells were all broken, and then served warm.
However, I let the nog be in the fridge for a whole day and tried it again. It was much better, as it had increased its taste to “average” but I would recommend staying away from eggnong in a can.
Granted, this is not to bad mouth cans. Lots of wonderful things can be found in cans. Green beans, for one. Capers come in cans. Sometimes you get a finger in your soda, and that’s like, a bonus. So cans are not to blame here. It’s just a sub-par nog.
