I love this story.

So, we were all hanging at McStinovich a few years ago. We were having a wonderful time, something you can't help but do at McStinovich what with all the drinking and the floating. We were up on the deck of the house focusing on the eating and drinking (not so much the floating right then) when S came out and informed C that the lemonade has gone bad. C was all surprised, "We have lemonade? Where did you find lemonade?" S informed her that he made it with his own two little hands, from frozen concentrate. C was again surprised at the existence of frozen lemonade concentrate in her home and wondered where S found it. He told her. She started cracking up and told him that's where they keep the fat. You know how every household stores the grease/fat from cooking bacon or frying burgers or whatever? My family keeps it in an old peanut butter jar underneath the sink - never to be mistaken for actual peanut butter or lemonade or whatever. The S's apparently store theirs in juice concentrate containers. Where any drunk fool can find it and be surprised at the bad taste.

Apparently S found the container and was craving lemonade. I always have a strong hope that he was well into the drinking portion of the weekend at this point. Because he found the concentrate container and poured the contents into a pitcher. He mixed in the two or three containers worth of water and stirred. He poured a glass and then tasted it. And thought it tasted a bit odd. And then he tasted it again. And then he came out to share the news of the funny tasting lemonade with everyone on the deck, so we will always and forever talk about 'The Time S Drank Fat'.

I think I tell the story better than I write it. And I can never decide when it's a good time to reveal the whole twist of it being fat rather than lemonade. Obviously if I start the story with, "Did you hear about the time S drank fat?" it really isn't important when the revelation is made as it's kind of already out there. But in writing it, I don't know. Maybe it's best to wait for later. Either way, still has me cracking up.

Hopefully he won't find me and beat me up if he ever reads this.