After one whole not-even-very-big glass of Alize last night, I had the following exchange with my friend, who has also dealt with chronic pain, via text:
ME: I’m a ninja gladiator. Thought you should know. I might also be drinking. Oh, and it’s 11:11. Make a wish.
HER: What do ninja gladiators drink? Bourbon, I presume.
ME: Tonight they drink Alize.
HER: Is that something autocorrect made up or is it a real drink? It sounds like a combo of Aleve and Zima.
ME: Real drink. Passion fruit infused vodka. Yummy and sweet but it miraculously doesn’t turn my stomach.
HER: That’s not miraculous, that’s ninja.
ME: But I’m hoping it works like a mix of Aleve and Zima. Having a fibro/arthritis flare from the cold, wet weather, I think. Numbing my body after holding out for several days with only the Aleve.
Hence the fact that I’m a ninja gladiator. I could fight lions with shot in my system.
Shit, not shot. Not really a shot kind of drink.
This shit. Good lord.
HER: Clearly not a grammar ninja right now.
ME: Grammar gladiator? I take grammar on and kick its ass until it dies a horrible death.
Also, autocorrect didn’t like “ass” at all. Clearly, I don’t text that word enough.
ME: Ass ass ass ass ass ass. Lion dead.
Fuck autocorrect. It tried to turn all of those into “assets.” But I insisted strongly-er.
S just said “floaters” and I laughed and then had to explain why that was funny.
HER: If you were up here in Boston, you’d be a ninja-cicle by now. You should make up a ninja rap.
ME: I like Alize and I cannot lie…
I just tried to rhyme “frozen” with “lederhosen.” ‘Nuff said. I should probably not have any more to drink.