Celery: Sometimes The Devil Wears Green, Not Prada

As most of my college friends know, I have a problem with celery. This problem stalks, I mean starts with a very unfortunate incident that took place too many years ago. For those of you who don't know the "Celery Story", brace yourselves because it is easily the shittiest and worst of all my terrible stories. Just so you know, I withheld this story from my closest friends until I graduated college. That's four years of amping up a story that has no bearing whatsoever on you at all. Yet, I kept building and building until finally they didn't care about it anymore. And just like that graduation came and the story was told. And no, celery was never stuck up my ass like some had suggested. Here we go.

It was around the year 2000. A new millenium. A time to embrace Y2K. A time to visit my grandmother's house. My grandmother was very close to me, so I never minded going to her house. Plus, she always had Twizzlers. So my mom, sister, and me venture over to her house to hang out on a Saturday afternoon. The typical Saturday involved going out to eat, maybe a little shopping and the eventual storytelling for 15 hours. Those Saturday's were the best. Nothing to worry about. No hangover, no problem.

Since I was always a phenomenal athlete and a registered in-shape guru, I had probably run like 30 miles earlier in the day in about 20 minutes. Which meant that I was really thirsty. Like I had never been before. And my sister was also just as thirsty, oddly. So we ask our grandmother what she had for us. It was either going to be a glass of water (Blah!). People who drink water are clearly the most boring people you will ever meet. Or it was going to be Dr. Brown's Celery Soda. Yes, you read that correctly. Celery Soda. A concoction of celery, carbon, and sugar. And God knows what other shit bottling companies throw in there.

Those who are very close to me know I'm not much of a risk taker. Very conservative thinker with my best intentions in mind. Today was a different day though because I chose to drink the Celery Soda. Writing this down right now is very difficult for me. So I crack open the can and take a sip. Putrid. Vomit-inducing. The taste is the absolute worst thing I have ever put in my mouth. My gut tells me no more, but my brain says finish it. So I chug the remainder of the can, like a dumb ass. The biggest mistake I have ever made in an otherwise perfect life. My sister isn't much of a fan either, but she maintains to keep it together.

I'm miserable for the rest of the day there. No amount of Twizzlers will subdue the shit I just swallowed. In fact, shit may have been a better choice to swallow at that point in time. Regardless, we get home and I brush my teeth and head to sleep. I awake at 2:30 a.m. to produce a healthy amount of vomit into my trash. Puking my guts up like I was beyond blacked out. I go brush my teeth again to reduce the taste of vomit/celery in my mouth, but nothing will do. I go back to sleep. The next morning I wake up and make a pledge to myself to never go near celery again.

Chicken Wings are now ruined if they touch celery. When my mom makes soup, I need to leave because the scent of celery makes me naseous. Celery is officially banned from my life. What also bothers me about celery, is that girls eat it because it's the only food that burns more calories than it contains or some yuppy shit like that. How about just working out, instead of putting that devilish, disgusting product in your mouth? I don't respect people who eat celery or threaten to put it in my mouth, ears, or nostrils when I am sleeping. Let this be a lesson to all of you that I do not tolerate celery or those who eat it. If you are a friend and you want to remain friends, then stop eating it. I won this battle because I always tell celery that, "I am better than you."