The Only Things That Save You

I have a juicer now and although I use it to juice things that are, you know, juicy, I’m basking in the glory provided by my ability to juice things that I didn’t even know CONTAINED juice. It’s as though this machine is some fantastic Tropicana commercial; the veritable straw plunged deep into my hypothetical orange is a bastion of satiation and the glorious liquid it extracts is literally teeming with sumptuous nutrition and flavor. But I can’t wax excitedly about its magnificence without noting a few marked downfalls of the device: the pulp receptacle is often caught shirking its job and acting lax with its duties by harboring “pulp” I’d reasonably expect to become “juice,” the blade spinning thing is relatively difficult to clean even with the included brush, and the little hole at the top which you are supposed to put things in is really too small and so you always have to cut small slices of things instead of just cramming the whole object in. But I mean just today I created a cocktail of three carrots and a pear, objects had you come to me with just a few months ago saying “I can turn these solids into liquid” I would have balked at, dismissing them as “too hard” and “not nearly juicy-looking enough” for extraction and transmogrification into juice drink. Did you know you can juice lettuce and spinach? Celery? That’d be one fucking drink. A celery and pineapple blend! Some time when Jess isn’t looking I think I’ll put a piece of pizza in there. Or some bread. A stick maybe. I am torridly excited at the revelation that even non-juicy items may in fact be harboring some hitherto mysterious liquid. Maybe from a stick comes forth a glass of Tanqueray itself, a veritable safehouse providing shelter to expensive liquor.

I bet even my hand would give way to a tasty flavored beverage.