Emily: This past Wednesday, I felt like I was in the middle of a drug deal. I nervously stood near the beer section of our local liquor store, waiting for a man wearing a green apron. When I saw him, I awkwardly confronted him and asked for what I'd come for: Hopslam. He told me to wait right there, and a wave of relief washed over me.
With my precious six-pack finally in hand, I begged for another. "You can only sell me one?"
I knew I was pressing my luck, but I had to after receiving a desperate text reading, "Come here to Greens and buy Hopslam. I can only buy one."
My boyfriend Justin's lack of the word "please" could only be excused by a life or death situation, otherwise known as running out of Hopslam.