Kombucha is the drink of Satan.


I’m trying.  I really am.  My feeble attempts at consuming all things healthy have led me down many a dangerous path. That being said, Kombucha, by far, has taken the proverbial cake.

Have you heard of this stuff?  My eldest biological (quasi-emo, death metal, intellectual type) first introduced this putrid potion (why the f*ck is spell check telling me to change “potion” to “option” or “portion”?) to me about six months ago.

“Mom, have you ever heard of Kombucha?”

“Um, no.  Is this some new elixir that you’re mixing to conjure the devil?”

quasi-emo eyes roll

“No.  It’s a type of tea.  They sell it in health food stores.  Smell this.”

don’t do it.  don’t do it.  don’t do it.

I did.  And I regret it.

To say that it smelled like a hobo’s feet soaked in vinegar would be putting it mildly.  And at that moment, I vowed never, never, ever to touch the stuff.

note to self:  vows don’t mean a d*mn thing (trust me, I’ve been married twice)

Flash forward.

Recently, the spouse and I have been attempting to alleviate some of our gut woes by juicing, taking probiotics (this has not been a viable option for me), and overall, eating less sh*t.

She came to me a few weeks ago and said in her South African accent, “Sam, have you heard of this Kumbooshie Tea?”

“If you mean Kombucha, why yes, yes I have.  And no.  No, I won’t try it.”

“But you must. It’s divine and it’s supposed to be very good for the gut.”

“My gut is fine.”

“No, it’s not.  Try this.”

don’t do it.  don’t do it. don’t do it.

I did.  And it went as expected.  Hobo feet soaked in vinegar…in a chilled bottle.

“What in the hell is DIVINE about cold, bubbly hobo feet soaked in vinegar?”

“Stop being such a tietkop (Afrikaans for tit-head) and drink it.”

So I did.

Now, a few days later, my sister (who lives next door – oh, and by the way, my parents live on the other side) found out that I had tried this unpalatable beverage and revealed that she, too, has been drinking it and the best place to buy it is at Costco and would I like her to pick me up a case? (I know.  Long run-on sentence, but I don’t really care).


I politely declined her offer stating that I’m a little low on cash (why I didn’t just say that the stuff makes me want to curl up and die is beyond me).

Which brings me to today.  I walked into my kitchen after a trip to the farmer’s market, opened the refrigerator, and found evidence of my sister’s overwhelming generosity.


Here’s to you, Satan.  Bottoms up!

I know this wasn’t a ringing endorsement of Kombucha, but it’s kind of grown on me.  Here’s how you can get your own:
GTs Enlightened Organic Raw Kombucha Gingerade, 16 Ounce — 12 per case.



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