Twelve Days of Christmas

I always hated this song when I was growing up. Redundancy, birds, inanity, birds, too many people, and birds being primary reasons. But Brian has fixed that! This Christmas we present the Twelve Days of Axis and Allies©. Full of things Brian loves! Like tanks! And paratroopers! And artillery, mounted troops, and infantry! He doesn't actually love the boats, (except submarines because, y'know, Marines) but they're better than leaping lords, right? I mean, why are the lords leaping? Paratroopers make so much more sense.

  A very Merry Christmas to you all!

Out of the Bottle

I bought a container of apple juice because I wanted apple juice. It seemed the logical course of action. I asked Brian at the store if he wanted two containers or one. He said one was fine, since I'd probably be the only one drinking it. That reason alone is enough to merit two containers, but I stuck with one.

I put the apple juice in the fridge because I wanted cold apple juice. I knew I'd have to wait for an hour or so, but it would be worth it for cold apple juice. I turned my impatience to good use and began preparing for the epicurean experience so soon at hand.

I drank a half glass of tepid water to quench the dry part of thirst so that no part of drinking the juice would be wasted on sheer hydration. I washed and dried a tall, wide-mouth tumbler and set it on the counter to cool. The glass is a most important part of the drink. The wide mouth maintains appropriate air flow, allowing enough space for the aroma to dissipate slightly but not so much that you can't catch the sharp smell right before the first taste. The glass must be just cooler than room temperature. Anything less makes the drink too cold to hold, and anything more makes the exterior air condense too quickly against the side.

I examined my available ice cubes. I love keeping pebbled ice on hand, but it's a sin to use it in apple juice. It melts too quickly and not only forms the most unsightly visible separation in the glass, but dilutes the quality of the juice before you can reach halfway. Ice in juice is a risky venture to begin with and disrupting the balance of flavor in apple juice is a higher possibility than with most juices. But the ice gives the juice that shock of cold that brings the snap of autumn into the drink and makes it beautiful.

I selected my ice cubes. Three of the half-moon shaped ones that my freezer makes automatically. They can't be chipped or stuck together or else the equilibrium of internal temperature gets thrown off. And at long last, I withdrew the container from the fridge and poured myself a glass.

Nothing could be more perfect. I paused to relish the culmination of my studied labor as Brian joined me in the kitchen, staring at my glass of juice.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I said, eyes fixed on my gorgeous glass of juice.

"You're ridiculous."

Not the response one expects from a work of art, but we'll let it go. I recapped the juice and, turning, replaced it in the fridge. The door closed as I returned to face my delectable—empty cup.

Brian drank my juice. 

Brian drank my juice.

Brian drank my juice.

In a single moment behind my back, Brian downed the entire glass of my perfect juice. He swallowed it whole. And then laughed about it! Why would you do that to me!?! Do you have any idea what you've DONE??? Not only have you deprived me of everything I've been looking forward to for the last ninety minutes, but you've made me use italics, boldface, a full-cap word, and excessive punctuation eight times in the last nine sentences trying to express the distress I suffered at your hands. 

Furthermore! You ruined my cup of juice! The ice has shocked; the glass is gathering condensation; and the cubes are sticking together. And! You drank my juice! You drank it! That's sixteen ounces of ice-cold perfection that I will never have! 

In the shattered wake of my disappointment, I tossed out the ice cubes, dried the outside of the glass, selected three fresh cubes, and glared Brian away from the kitchen counter. Minimum distance, buddy. Keep your hands where I can see them and don't make any sudden movements. I poured a new glass and put the juice back in the fridge again. At least he got the juice-stealing out of his system and now I can enjoy a lovely cup of juice. 

Nope! Too slow! Did you seriously just drink my second glass of apple juice? What is wrong with you, child!?! Thirty-two! That's thirty-two ounces of apple juice! Gone! Gone! Gone in six seconds! How do you imbibe that much ice-cold apple juice that fast? You know the bottle only has sixty-four ounces, right? That's half. Half the bottle gone. If you'd wanted half my juice, why didn't you buy two bottles? You're the one who said buy one bottle and you wouldn't drink any! You lied. 

You know what? Just. Never mind. I hope you get indigestion laughing yourself to fits after inhaling thirty-two ounces of my juice. And I have to refresh the glass a second time. New ice cubes. Dry off the condensation. Pour myself a third glass and—!@#$% What are you, a juice ninja!?! 

Screw it. I'm drinking the rest straight out of the bottle. It's barely even cold.