“Have a ball!” - BuzzBallz
Usually in the writing room of Kill Pretty—otherwise known as the teen section at the public library—we find our inspiration at the bottom of the bottle. After telling each other the lamest dick jokes we can come up with, our supply ran low and our dick jokes became too good. So we set forth into the hot, arid, wheel-carted streets of downtown Los Angeles to fulfill or booze intake.
We stumbled upon the little, round, neon, testicle-shaped cans known as BuzzBallz. These so-called BuzzBallz are so appealing to the eye that even the world’s finest teetotaler can’t look away. Being the drunk degenerates we are, we decided to buy the whole refrigerator stock’s worth, which turned out to be like only 24 cans. But do not be fooled. These Ballz of Buzz come well stocked with 20% alcohol, and they all taste like a queef from one of Satan’s demonic and dirty harlots.
While in the store, we stumbled upon a girl named Christian. Yes, that is correct. A girl. Named Christian. Before even taking notice to the oddly shaped cans dumped into our t-shirts folded up like some fat fuck trying to lie in a hammock, she told us that she’s a stripper but gets paid in pennies. Then she instantly informed us she was just kidding. It’s only a joke. However, she continued telling us that she’s really fucked up right now because she’s on Ritalin but took her sleeping pills too late and then woke up and now her mouth is all dry—whatever the fuck. Then she finally takes notice to the neon balls flooding our clothes.
“What’s that?” she says.
“What the fuck are BuzzBallz?”
“We don’t know but we’re going to drink every last one of them.”
“Ooh. Can I come on your investigation?”
“Next time, lady. We’ve got important matters to attend.”
Christian looked disappointed but we didn’t have time for overweight Ritalin adicts, plus we only had 24. So we pay for these fucking things, three bucks a piece, plus the ten cent per bag fee in this goddamn city, totaling $72.80. While we’re walking back to the war room, we’re unable to contain our urge to crack these things open and so we open them right there on the street. We wrap the paper bags around these tiny, round cans to conceal the contents, public open-container 40oz style, while the two other cans of BuzzBallz rattle around in the bottom of our bags like an old’s man’s testicles in his wrinkly, sagging scrotum.
At the underpass, we encounter a homeless man banging on trash cans with old, broken mop handles telling us, “I just be playin’ da drums. Hey, what the hell y’all got all up in them bags?”
“Ah, yeah. BuzzBallz. Let me tell y’all her up on now little story ‘bout BuzzBallz. I was in the first ever black Kiss cover band.”
“That’s great. What about the BuzzBallz story?”
“What you mean? There alcohol up in them things?”
“Aw, yeah. I got a Facebook, y’all know.”
And so we got the hell out of that.
We got home, eagerly throwing the Buzzballz in the freezer and grabbing more for ourselves. Nacho got the Stiff Lemonaid (Lemonade and vodka), Jacob grabbed the Overdue Blue (a Tropical blend of coconut, pineapple, orange juice, lemon and vodka) and Matt grabbed the Strawberry Rum Job (Strawberries and rum with a hint of pineapple, lime and banana).
Nacho had to throw on his official Buzzballz Sports Suit which helped him to sweat like a motherfucker and be twice as drunk as everyone else.
We all grasped the balls tight, popped the tops off and pressed the smooth plastic balls to our mouths, chugging the intoxicating juices inside. Here is a breakdown of the flavors:
Stiff Lemonade by Nacho - It had the strong taste of well vodka with a hint of vomit and bad decisions. I felt slightly sick and slightly drunk by the time the ball had emptied it’s load.
Overdue Blue by Jacob - I never wanted to drink these in the first place. I wish I didn’t agree to write articles like this. Seriously though, no one should be drinking Buzzballz. I probably have cancer now.
Strawberry Rum Job by Matt - I loved the strawberry flavor. It wasn’t quite the same as mixing a drink at home but it got the job done and it was cheap and it got the job done.
Immediately Matt started vomiting. Jacob mumbled something about missing an episode of Gilmore Girls, grabbed his backpack and left. Between sweating in the Official Buzzballz Sports Suit and being drunk on cancer juice, Nacho wasn’t able to stop him. Matt tried but just yelled out, “I FEEL MY BALLZ ABUZZIN’!” Jacob missed out though because we found the true hidden story of BuzzBallz.
Apparently a high school teacher wanted to find a way to get freaky with her classmates. She tells the story of sitting by her pool, silently masterbating to a high school senior she had just given a mean history lesson to when she dropped her cocktail in the water. She wanted a way to masturbate drunk and not have to worry about the safety of her alcoholic beverages. (No seriously her story is on the website.)
Buzzballz were invented as a floatable, kosher and freezable alternative to delicious cocktails. Immediately she was a hit with her students and was able to bang half the senior class. Very similar to Camel cigarettes in the 90’s used to fuck under aged children.
We were silently gawking at the hot high school teacher’s photo on Buzzballz.com who had inadvertently gotten us shit faced when we threw on Prince Rick’s Buzz Ballin’ and pretended we were in the club, hanging out with girls, reverting back to a typical Saturday night.
By the end of the song we had the whole house chanting, “BUZZ BALLIN’” which I have to say feels pretty good when you’re clutching a Buzz Ball in each hand. Nacho was looking pale and sickly and his eyes started rolling in their sockets.
Nacho- “I remember mixing a Rum Job with a Overdue blue and the room started to vibrate. I was seeing swatches of different colored orbs flying around my head. Little Buzzballz telling me to “party like a rockstar”, and “RIP just killed the club.” I remember twerking with some chick which was strange because it was just me and Matt and Matt was definitely vomiting in the bathroom. I think I passed out after that”
We woke up the next day around noon, empty ballz and full bladders abuzz. Turns out, mixing BuzzBallz will, in fact, not be a good time, even for the seasoned veterans at the art of heavy drinking. While these cute, little, round can-balls are quite attractive to the I-want-to-rip-your-panties-off level, these little fuckers pack quite the punch. While we don’t comprehend it, we’ve finally came a little bit closer to understanding what they mean by, “Drink Responsibly.” They mean, “Don’t drink Buzzballz.”
Jacob - “Getting on the bus my mind was spinning. Why had I come to Los Angeles? Was it the fame? The fortune? What brought me here? I sat down next to a wise old woman with long whiskers and asked her to tell me her secrets. She spoke of long Cadilacs, palm tree sunsets and the underground poetry slams of the 50’s. I slid out of her lap onto the floor, and an Overdue Blue Buzzball fell out of my hand, rolling down the center aisle of the bus. Watching that Buzzball spin, I saw our tiny Earth—a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam— rotating along its axis, all the little people, living their lives, I knew I was just another drop in the bucket. That mysterious Buzzball, a puzzle box of drunken delight that can open the passage to all of life’s greatest mysteries.”