“Malort will take your tongue and squeeze it like the best hug you’ve ever had”–this fucking guy
Every week it feels like there is a new headline about Malort. Malort is back, Malort coffee, Malort flavored candies, Malort Malort MALORT. We get it…Malort is back to being produced in Chicago after 20+ years of being distilled in Jacksonville Florida. Great news or whatever. This comment though. This one hit home because it was so accurate. I want to go ahead and disqualify any hugs between you and a family member or friend. Those don’t count. At least for the purpose of this blog. The Malort hug can only be about a crush.
Now, as someone who didn’t grow beyond 5’2 until I was 18…I spent a lot of time in the friendzone.
Look at that stupid face. That guy spent a lot of time hearing about how girls were mistreated by some asshole with frosted tips, a hookah shell necklace, and abercrombie clothes…as was the fashions at the time. Only to give an A+ hug, get some blood flowing and be told that whoever dates me would be so lucky. THOSE are the type of hugs that are like Malort. The type of hug that after it’s over is extremely painful and bitter. The type of hug that makes you want to die. The type of hug that makes you want to run away and jump over a fence.
Yes, tears, nerves, anxiety, butterflies, and then emotional and physical anguish. The Malort hug.