Sanpellegrino Aranciata

So I haven't had the best experiences with Sanpellegrino brand beverages. In fact I would like to point out that their Chinotto is in the top 2 worst drinks I have ever consumed and the top 5 worst things I've ever put in my mouth. I was apprehensive about drinking this but I have to admit that I love the thrill of knowing I'm going to be drinking something disgusting. It's hilarious and torturous at the same time. It's my equivalent of sky diving. I live a sad pathetic life.

Strike One. It's not a twist top. Let's make this clear. There is no way that this is worth the trouble of having to find a bottle opener for regardless of it's contents.

The first sniff still doesn't stink as bad as the other one did. Also, I think it's important to note, that the bottle is the colour of citrus fruits so I'm not going to be surprised when it tastes like citrus.

As I suspected this thing is tangy. To the point of being wildly repugnant. This drink doesn't taste like anything except stomach acid. But because I had expected to go blind from drinking it I am not shocked by it's offensiveness. The taste is probably comparable to taking a can of Sprite and then chugging it down and then ripping it in half and then using the sharp aluminum edges to carve racial slurs all over your body and then dousing yourself in rubbing alcohol and then setting yourself on fire. All while not blinking and eating grapefruit.

I don't understand why people would ever want to drink this. My threshold for sour is non existent. Sour is a stupid taste.

Sour does not:
Give you the runs
Make you better at sports
Get you Xbox Achievements
Make your foreskin flower and blossom around your testies
Do anything to make it worth your while

Sour is like the ugly girl at the dance. Sour, you should just go home and kill yourself because no one wants to show you their dick or rub against them titties.

Sour is like going out on a date and then buying dinner and then going to the fucking movies and buying popcorn and then when you go in for the kiss at the end of the night and she kisses back and then you ask if you can come up for coffee and she says no and then you fucking lose it and smash her head against her door knocker and then kick her in the stomach and bush and then the neighbors poke their heads out and then you throw rocks from the garden at them and because your throws are guided by horniness and rage, your rock flies straight and catches an old man in his nose and blood sprays down on you and then you're covered and then you take your shirt off and then you climb the ivy on the house and then you grab that fucking guy by the hair and then you throw him down a few stories and he's crying and he has bone fragments poking out of his shitty old flesh and then the cops come and you resist arrest and then you get maced and clubbed and then you go to jail and then you regret flipping out and a wave of panic comes across you and then it subsides and then all you're left with is hollow, empty depression and then you hang yourself and your cellmate fucks your corpse more than once.

I hate this drink.