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Smirnoff Double Black + Guarana

Cost: $8
Alcohol Volume: 7%
Pairing: Shame pizza ($2.99 a slice from New World fyi)
Verdict: ★★★★ “God, why do I even drink wine?”

Hello dear readers. Before we start, we’d like everyone to turn on “Graduation (Friends Forever)” by Vitamin C as an accompaniment to the review. We’ll wait here.

For this week, we decided to do the ultimate throwback and start with the drink of choice for every 17-year-old (15-year-old if you’re from Hamilton). Smirnoff Double Black was the real MVP of every puke-stained house party you ever lied to your parents about in high school. With its high alcohol content and lolly water flavour, this teenage dream was proudly brandished in every above-the-head selfie taken on a digital camera and uploaded to Bebo.

Prefaced by a $9 bottle of cat piss wine with a lot of bullshit New World gold medals (notwithstanding our hatred of New World), we decided to record our Double Black review after attending a comedy show. This was necessary to avoid either of us heckling the performers or being forcibly removed from a venue. Just to be clear, we have not historically been this considerate but we learn from (most of) our mistakes. On an unrelated note, neither of us should be allowed to access Twitter after two standards drinks. But that’s a matter for another day.

“Double black” is not a flavour. This drink tastes like lemonade. There is nothing wrong with that. It tastes sweet, it tastes good, and it leaves a disgusting (but satisfying) film in your mouth after the third can. We got Guarana because we like to be ~totally pumped~ when we listen to Christian rock in the lounge. Lydia had drunk too much coffee that day and was up until 4am sending regrettable Facebook messages, but we all make our choices. A little bit of regression is good for everyone. Next time you find yourself in the liquor shop and can’t decide between Five Flax or Banrock Station, we highly recommend that you reach for an RTD, go home, listen to Dei Hamo and enjoy yourself.

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Ten things I wish my friends knew about being Māori

: 1). I wish my friends knew that when they ask me what “percentage” of Māori I am—half, quarter, or eighth—they make me feel like a human pie chart. I don’t know how people can ask this so nonchalantly, but they do. So I want to let you know: this is a very threatening