Over the weekend my roommates and I decided to go for an all-girls Sunday Slowdown (viz. a nepenthean tradition involving booze and semi-sleazy conversations about life in general). Normally Sunday Slowdown would involve a male attendee or attendees even depending on the day. On this occasion however our usual suspect found himself with a group of Celts in another alcoholic soiree and then got sick. Our guess is that his constitution simply couldn’t hold up against the big Kahunas of ale-chugging.
Whilst in the convenience store, the roomies beelined for the freezer and found themselves confronted with an impertinent little tag hanging on the neck of our poison of choice (see illustration below).
They gave one pause… and then grabbed ten of the little suckers.
You would think that my initial reaction would be an outburst of feminist rhetoric. They can’t be serious! What were they thinking placing such a strident symbol of misogyny on their product? In this day and age no less. Did the Gilbey’s marketing execs hire some cigar smoker from the 30’s to come up with this idea?
Then I realized I was holding a bottle of special dry gin with natural green tea extract infused with the crisp taste of citrus and the zest of ginger (best enjoyed with friends while making potpourri).
No self-respecting man will ever be caught dead with it. I shall reserve my rage for a more worthwhile cause. In the meantime, us girls enjoyed downing our ice-cold metrosexual beverage.
To add an extra pinch, I left the label on the entire time.
