So I'm making dinner, and I decide to make Aaron stop and get tequila (and of course I did research on it to make sure tequila is gluten-free. Duh) and some frozen strawberries on his way so I can make margaritas. I printed off about ten recipes today and figured I can just make one my own (which is totally how I operate).
Anyway, Aaron come home and I mix up a batch before dinner is fully done. After two sips I STAB MYSELF IN MY HAND.
Aaron knows where this story is going and is laughing his ass off.
Anyway, half way into dinner Aaron looks at me and says, "You're all splochy."
Turns out I'm allergic to something. Tequila? Maybe the Cointreau? Maybe a seasoning in dinner that was suppose to be gluten free?
Who fucking knows.
All I know is this much...
And that was a damn good margarita, too.