As part of our ongoing commitment to science, Glossy News brings you the next instalment of Skittlebrauology. There is a science to mixing Skittles and malted beverages, and we're out to figure it out. Herein we present our findings on the combination of Skittles and 211 Steel Reserve.
I'm not homophobic or anything, but the head made me gag.
God no, what on earth was I thinking? I feel like a Lucy tripper who has just realized he triple-dosed. Alas, I will (or may,) prevail.
211 is best served very, very cold. So cold in fact that one could argue it numbs the taste buds. I was afforded no such luxury going into this venture. Though chilled, it lacked any numbing quality. I had to settle for the anaesthetizing quality, though pity, that is so very slow.
There was no immediate reaction, though within a minute they were foaming over, having increased their respective volumes by 5% per Skittle. Sipping the foam back was enough to kick up my gag reflex for the first time in probably eight years… don't worry, though. I doubt the Skittles had anything to do with it.
ROUND ONE-
Starting with the red/purple I found the taste to be almost entirely unchanged. Gross, but gross as usual.
Yellow/orange tasted like day old keg piss Coors, which is a pretty big compliment coming from me to 211 Steel Reserve.
Green tasted much as I'd imagine the river in Boston does at the St. Paddy's day parade. It's green, it's murky, and heck, it just ain't right. My fear has returned with reinforcements.
Half-time was already rather unpleasant.
ROUND TWO-
Red/purple was more nasty than before. Still no sweetness to speak of.
Yellow Orange. I paused to savor the aroma. Sweet and delightful. Tasting… Repugnant Christ, did I remember to add the Skittles to this unholy concoction? Tummy rumbles grow worse, gagging returns.
Green was the most awful before and time has been a wicked agent against the palatability of these drinks. A shiver, shutter and some squinting ensues.
ROUND THREE-
Red. Only three ounces to go… I can do this. A quick sniff says "cherry ass" flavored. Pound it, you bitch! Hhhough! I sound like a vulture. Thought I was intoxicated enough to make a go of polishing it off, but no dice.
Orange. Aroma is still pleasing, or so my drunk ass thinks. Pound it? Why not, it's tasted about the best of the three. No dice again. Same albatrossy sound escapes me.
What gives with these candy entrails?
Green. Internal Skitallic residue is floating in increasing quantity. Like pond algae I wish to skim it. The scent, me do thinketh, is truly of limey Skittle beer. Is this a break though, wishful thinking, irrelevant, or just a malted hallucination? Wow, the sedation of it all has clearly set in, for I've tasted not a thing. Kudos to me.
ROUND FOUR-
Red. I only smell corrupt sugar now. It's so sweet I barely gag, just a bit and it almost remotely was not disgusting.
Orange. My drunkenness has nearly convinced me I'm not stupid, though these pages of documentation speak to the contrary. Ugh! Still a culture. Shiyte howdy, what disgustitude! Still smells okay, though I'm clearly anything but. Tummy rumblins' have passed, but so has any semblance of judgment. I plug on. Only two ounces to go. Last drink is sweet, but by no means a consolation. F*ck this.
Green. This is it. Less than three ounces in my entire trial and freedom awaits. God don't let me vomit now. It smells like a shooter on an assy knoll. I'm procrastinating, which is never good in Skittlebraulogy. Onward… I just drank moss. This ain't right. I wish to tell you how much time has passed thus far from inception to moss drinkery but I'm unsure. Twenty minutes from then to now perhaps?
A WORD ON NAUSEA & Confusion-
4/24 ounces down and my gullet began a rumblin'. It remains to be seen how much I'd be able to complete.
10/24 ounces down. Found that round two did not help as the mixes grew more vomitous. My handwriting grew poorer, my intestines growled a sad melody. My spell check was sure to struggle with this text.
16/24 ounces out of the way. By the end of round three the hiccups got the better of me and the confusion had finished moving in with me.
18/24 ounces was the end of round three and the beginning of round four. Yes, there was an unprecedented round four. On the previous experiments two rounds was always sufficient to get through the composition, but due to the nast-tasti-less-ness, I was unable to get very far per round. I still had over six ounces to go. I was no longer scared, just a bit tossed.
21/24 was near the end of round four. I felt an inclination to vandalize my Skittle bag, or even take the individual Skittles and extrapolate those mindless S's on each piece with Sharpie "ittles"… is this madness Skittlebrau induced?
This picture represents the state of my mind and bowels, as well as the table.
SUMMARY
There is a reason we perform these experiments for you. While some mixtures may prove delightful, others prove unfit for human consumption, nay, toxic even. It is not recommended you try this at home. However, should you embark on your own Skittlebrau excursion, it is strongly recommended that you photograph and document it and send it to us for publication.
Overall, this mixture was a complete failure. I mean, come on, I started with 211 Steel Reserve and I added Skittles like a total short-bus screw up. Though some parts of the mixture did, in fact, make me gag less than others, it's still hardly any consolation.
For my finale, I ate the worms… Green was okay, very soft. Yellow and orange had some very unpleasant lingering beer about it, though still soft and tasty (once past the beer). Red/purple had that same bilous beer pre-taste, though the sweetness damn near made up for it.
I cleansed my palate with a fifteen minute choke-load of Skittles and a Djarum clove. Did I mention I did all this at work? Oh, well never mind.
