People often ask me where I get my inspiration for the greatest food blog in all of history.
Some days, God reaches down from the heavens and whispers things into my ear, like, “Yo, you really need to eat some dicks, like actual dicks, because penises are hilarious, and I think you’re the idiot for the job.” Other days, like the last two posts, I get inspiration from you guys, like baking kitty litter cornbread and making cocktails out of mouthwash.
But every now and then, I just wake up, thinking, “Dannis Ree, if you can’t figure something out in the next five minutes, you’re not going to have a post by Tuesday, and you will stop being the best food writer in the world. You will be shunned and forced to roam the earth, cast away like that used condom you saw draped over your neighbor’s fence.”
Then I become very sad. I do not want to become a used condom.
The other morning, I was laying in bed, wondering what the hell I was going to write about, until I grudgingly rolled off your mother and looked at the old disgusting humidifier in the corner of my room that I haven’t used in over a year. Then your mother grunted something about wanting to have vodka for breakfast, and that’s when the planets aligned into a mystical formation (the shape of a penis), and I knew what I had to do.
I said to myself, “Dannis Ree, your humidifier is really gross. It needs to be cleaned out. Maybe you can use vodka to sanitize it or something. But wait. Can you get drunk from inhaling vodka from your humidifier? That would be hilarious. And if it kills you, you will become a true god.”
This is really how my brain works. My mind is a ravaged wasteland of damaged neurons and fart jokes.
Using my humidifier to only get wasted on vodka seemed boring, so I went to the store and purchased some other ill-conceived liquids to inhale too, including Clamato (which is a weird tomato-clam juice), wine from a box, and the abomination known as a “Lime-a-Rita.”
I did some research (aka Googled), and found that some hipster (no, really, he has a beard and funny glasses and everything) from Vice already tried the humidifier vodka thing, but this clown didn’t try to inhale tomato-clam juice.
I am hellbent on my own destruction. And before I continue, I need to tell you to not do this, since you could probably die from Clamato lung.
Here is the humidifier.
It is a very pretty little humidifier. As you can see, it is shaped like a drop of water. The clear plastic is blue, which makes it really hard to see if there’s any garbage growing inside of it. Maybe this humidifier does want me to die.
My humidifier has never been cleaned, because I am an irresponsible human being.
I should probably be dead from a respiratory bacterial infection or something. But because the food on this blog hasn’t killed me yet, I have come to the conclusion that I am immortal, and I can do anything, including inhale aerated alcoholic beverages. Cricket took a little sniff, cried, and ran away.
I cleaned out the humidifier with vinegar and scrubbed the living shit out of it. God forbid I die of mildew poisoning when I’m really trying to get die by breathing in alcohol.
It’s been a while since I’ve actually been this nervous to try anything stupid on this blog.
The last time I was this nervous was when I tried making egg salad sandwiches out of balut. My hands actually shook that day.
Yes, this really happened.
I’m sure there’s plenty of you guys who think I’m doing this for shock value, but it’s less that, and more morbid curiosity on my part. That, and I’m sure I’m brain damaged from sniffing my own farts for 35 years.
See how there’s a dripping ring of fluid in the middle of the humidifier reservoir?
Those drips are commonly called “legs.” When you see those drips running down the side of a vessel like the inside of a glass or cup, this typically indicates a high alcohol content. Try it with a glass of spirits sometime, without ice.
If you’re talking about wine, beer, or spirits with a bunch of food bloggers, all you need to do is swirl the drink in a glass and say, “Look at the legs on this bad boy,” and everyone will high-five you even though they don’t know exactly what that means.
Vodka mist is very fine — it’s more wispy than plain old water.
I regretted my first hit. It tasted like rubbing alcohol (to be fair, I did purchase cheap vodka) and there was a slight burn from my sinuses down to the back of my throat. I did not enjoy it at all. But after a few more deep breaths, I got used to it pretty quickly. I sat on the floor inhaling finely dispersed vodka for half an hour. I did not feel particularly different aside from a deep-seated feeling of shame.
Plain vodka is boring, so why not add some savory flavor to the mix?
I’d like to pretend like I’ve never had Clamato before, but I’ve enjoyed it plenty of times. It’s just tomato juice mixed with spices and clam juice, though, honestly, the clam juice is hardly noticeable if at all. I’m pretty sure there’s just a very small amount in each bottle. What makes it addictive is the hit of MSG.
Clam juice sounds revolting, but let’s be serious. I get plenty of clam juice on tap every night from your mother. Don’t tell me you didn’t see that coming. All over your mother’s face.
The Clamato went straight in with the vodka.
As I was pouring it in, I thought I should just stop. But legends never quit. Legends also usually don’t inhale clam juice either. Please take a long moment to admire my baby-sized hand.
The solution turned into a disturbing shade of brown-red.
I was convinced this was going to be horrible.
I don’t know if you can tell, but the mist is a lot thicker now that Clamato was added.
I shook my head and went balls deep by taking a huge breath. It’s been a while since ingesting anything actually made me laugh, but this was hilarious. I first detected the familiar acid of tomato juice, which gave way to the approximate flavor of worcestershire sauce. I couldn’t really pick up the flavor or smell of clam at all.
I know this sounds unlikely, but the aerated bloody mary smells and tastes delicious.
After a while, I was hooked, but I couldn’t stop. I cleaned out the humidifier and moved on bravely.
I chose a delightful (garbage) pinot grigio that came straight from a box.
Pinot grigio is an Italian term, so you know it’s high-class.
It is very difficult to take a picture of one hand pouring wine while your other hand is holding a heavy camera.
Highly regarded food bloggers are capable of doing this easily. Also, my forearms are massively strong due to excessive masturbation. I’m like the Popeye of jerking off. And of crippling loneliness.
My own words cut me to the core.
The blue plastic makes it easy to forget you are huffing wine.
Actually, nothing can make you forget you’re huffing wine.
White wine vapor smells very nice.
I’ve always noticed that wine smells a little acrid when you’re cooking with it on the stovetop, but coming straight from a humidifier, it lets off a delicate floral bouquet which is entirely enjoyable. Inhaling it directly is a completely different story.
I took a giant whiff of it and immediately fell into a coughing fit. I thought it was just a fluke, so I calmed down and tried again. I started coughing even harder and I felt vomit rise to the back of my throat. I haven’t yet thrown up from doing anything from this stupid-ass blog, but this is the closest I’ve ever gotten. It wasn’t even from eating garbage for once.
Do not huff vaporized white wine. Ever. White wine can be sweet, sometimes sugary, or even viscous, and I think the combination of all those things practically choked me. I coughed for a good long while. I did feel slightly hazy, but it didn’t feel like I was anywhere near intoxicated yet, and I felt sad, deep inside my sad place, which is my ass.
Have any of you ever had a Lime-a-Rita?
If you enjoy these things willingly, I do not respect you.
As you can see, I had a very special can.
I was the lucky recipient of one extra fluid ounce. One. This is a true bargain, guys. It’s like someone printed the spirit of America right on the can.
I cracked this thing open, took a sip, and immediately regretted it. Lime-a-Rita tastes like the way Pine-Sol smells. I think they serve this beverage in hell. I became angry that people drink this poison willingly, so, like a normal person, I decided to inhale it.
It’s hard to see, but Lime-a-Rita has the distinct color of pee.
Not like healthy pee, but mildly dehydrated pee. This is another indicator that you should not drink it.
Just in case I had another bad reaction, I brought out the garbage can.
I nearly ruined my rug with the white wine inhalation earlier, so I thought I’d take precautions. My rug is probably so filled with bodily fluids at this point a splatter of barf would probably be an improvement.
See what I mean about the pee?
It even has that ring of froth around the surface! It’s just so inviting!
The Lime-a-Rita let off an appealing curl of vapor, thick, and full-bodied.
Too bad Lime-a-Rita vapor also somehow smells like stale pee too. It also has the distinct scent of honey with a sugary finish, along with a faint artificial citrus scent, though you’d be hard-pressed to describe it as “lime.”
After my initial deep inhalation, I was pleasantly surprised to find it didn’t choke me like the white wine, but there was something…off about it. That’s when it hit me. Lime-a-Rita vapor tastes the way that well-used urinal cakes smell. This shook me to my rotten core.
I willingly breathed in pee and air freshener.
Harvey and Mr. Bee stayed far away from this taste (sniff) test.
I overheard heard them arguing about who gets my Xbox when I die. What’s even worse is that I didn’t even get a real buzz. Afterwards I felt like I may have been in a slight alcohol-induced daze, but it was so light it was hard to tell.
What did I learn today?
I learned that my favorite alcoholic drink to inhale is a Clamato bloody mary, which are words I do not think I’d ever say. I also learned that inhaling white wine will probably kill you, and that Lime-a-Rita is made out of dissolved used urinal cakes. So what I’m trying to say is I learned that I’m even dumber than I thought by doing this at all.
If you want an alternative to drinking alcohol, which is like the easiest thing in the world, just take a funnel and have someone pour booze up your ass like a frat boy on a serious bender.
[Final note: You guys know I’ve been sad about not having a steady job, but I’d like to report that I’ve gotten a wonderful part-time gig as a real cook. In an actual restaurant. For the first time in my entire life. Remember my post about pizza-flavored pizza from last year?
If you live in Chicago or are visiting, I’m expecting each and every one of you to come say hello in person while I cook your dinner. I promise there won’t be any dicks on it. Mostly because I’d get fired.]