Hate the stuff. Hate. I'm using the word hate here.
Once, my dad made me drink a whole can of it before soccer practice. I still remember the nails-on-a-chalkboard, William Wallace-like-disembowelment chills that accompanied that can.
But what my friend Andrew had to go through is even more repulsive. Read about it here: V8 Incident.
Do not drink V8 people!
Sunday, November 25, 2007
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