Repackaged antifreeze

To haggle is to live, and to haggle well is to thrive. Some may call me cheap, others may call me frugal, but it all just boils down to the same thing: I really like to get my money’s worth—really like it. Be it Craigslist, or any other opportunity for haggling, I can’t get enough. It’s one of my vices. Of course, this leads to many different responses: my mother compliments me on how wisely I spend my money, but my roommates make fun of me because of how much fruit I buy at Haymarket. Granted, the amount of produce I buy can sometimes be staggering, but I just can’t pass up a great deal. After all, “a great deal, is a great deal, is a great deal!” Right?

Wrong.

Once upon a time, I believed that I could piece together words, repeat myself three times, and that it would be true. I’ve since learned my lesson. One must understand though, that as a child of self-employed real estate agents, I grew up in an environment that sometimes confused me and led to a slightly distorted vision of the world. For one, because of how many properties were in it, I used to think that “Escrow” was a town in Oregon. More importantly though, “location, location, location!” was preached to me as if it were some kind of biblical truth. And in my simple, fragile mind, I somehow made the connection between truths and alliterations. If “location, location, location!” was true, then surely all alliterations were true. It made perfect sense.

Try to keep following my logic; it’s not over yet, but it does make a “great leap forward”… (Get it? Chinese history reference, anyone? Bueller?)

Anyway, if all alliterations were fact, then I decided that I could make up some new facts as well—so long as they were alliterations. If I repeated a phrase three times, then that would be true too. Perfect! (It never occurred to me that these weren’t alliterations at all, and were actually just fragments that I had repeated three times.) Naïvely, I thought to myself, “a great deal, is a great deal, is a great deal!” However, one cannot tamper with a higher power, and—as I discovered recently—my firm belief that this was an alliteration did not actually make it so. “Would a rose by any other name smell just as sweet?" Yes. Is a phrase that you claim is an alliteration, but in reality isn’t at all, actually an alliteration? No. Because of that, “a great deal, is a great deal, is a great deal!” is not true. Because it is not alliteration. The logic is flawless. Just go with it.

Now that you understand my pseudo-beliefs, allow me to delve into what this blog entry is really about: repackaged antifreeze. I’m not talking about some kind of FDA recall, I’m referring to the horrible Chinese concoction known as rice wine. Or, as they prefer to call it, Bijou. It’s often pronounced “bye-joe”, and I can only assume that they did that on purpose. You’ll have to try to believe me when I tell you that I’ve never actually tasted antifreeze, due to the advice bestowed upon me by my father, but I’ve been told that it has a slightly sweet taste—hence the reason you should keep your pets away from any spills.

…

It also kills you.

Due to these striking product similarities—death and a slightly sweet taste—I’ve come to the conclusion that Bijou is probably some kind of distilled, repackaged antifreeze. It could not possibly be made from rice—rice is far too delicious.

But how does this relate to you being so cheap, Jason?

Excuse me, frugal.

Because, my dear followers, Bijou costs about $6 USD per gallon. Sadly, I was drawn in by my belief that “a great deal, is a great deal, is a great deal!” and purchased some—mind you, not a gallon. Despite the warnings by my former Shanghaier friend, Hana Nobel, I went ahead and decided to actually drink this horrible swill, and immediately regretted the consequences. Actually, I regretted the consequences the next morning. In any case, I've decided to disregard all the non-alliteration truths that I have come to believe. A phrase is not an alliteration, an alliteration, an alliteration. I still believe that true alliterations, however, are rock solid—they’re just too convenient not to be. (Need I remind you of “location, location, location!”?)

***Disclaimer: yes, I am 21 years old and therefore of legal drinking age. And yes, I am in China where there is no legal drinking age***

But back to the story…

I don’t typically overindulge, nor did I with Bijou. Nay, I actually had a very small amount of this poison. What I failed to understand though, is that there is a very large difference between alcohol and Bijou. You can drink alcohol and be perfectly fine the next morning. If you choose to drink Bijou, however, you will be anything but that. The two words, alcohol and Bijou, are not synonymous. Bijou is not alcohol; Bijou is a life lesson in a glass—or plastic, if you dare—bottle.

So, what life lesson did I learn?

(Drum roll please)

…

Don’t drink antifreeze.

Thanks for trying, Papa Wolf, but I guess sometimes I have to learn these things on my own. I promise to heed your advice in the future.

Zai jian,

Jhw