Sticker from hell is on top of the thing and God protect you if you try to remove it.
Buyer beware: Don't put the syrup in the bottle before you make the soda.
Simple to remember, right? Who could possibly forget this? Do you think you would need to be reminded of this fact every time you made soda? No... No, me neither...
Why, then, would Mr. Sodapop Jerry need to have this plastered on its top with a large scary sticker? A sticker about as sightly as a baboon's ass.
It begins. Quickly, I resort to scratching at this miserable sticker with my finger nails, and even quicker it begins to sink in: my human body is not going to be enough.
Lest step. I've stopped crying by now, and I am resolute. I will remove this shit NO MATTER WHAT. I bring out the big guns, my last shot, I go to the tool drawer and grab what will be my Savior. The surface finish on Mr. Jerry is beyond saving, but I can still take this glue off. I now hold in my hand a glorious square of fresh sandpaper. God help us all. With my lips pulled back, a deranged grin on my face, I grind away the last bits of glue. It is done.
I don't think I'm the same person I was at the beginning of this adventure. Am I more, or am I less of a man now? Time will tell.
Also, you can't put the bottles in the dishwasher? Da fuq is up with that?!
Well, for whatever reason it was there. "Was", I said. I removed that son of a whore. Yes I did. But let me tell you, as I sit drinking a whiskey and soda, it was a fight to the death. You see, this was not some normal sticker. Ha! Imagine that! A sticker that could be peeled off... No. This was a sticker of the worst variety, you know the type. It wasn't until I'd torn off the first 2 corners that I realized "oh no.. This sticker is not to be removed..."
I bring out the first tool. I have a utility hiking knife, and I keep it veeery sharp (holla at chya whetstone!). This little shit of a sticker doesn't stand a chance I think, and boy was I wrong. I soon find that this sticker consisted of flimsy toilet paper stuck to the surface with a glue comparable to Satan's spunk. "Don't put the syrup in the bottle" I mutter to myself over and over again. It takes me about 10 minutes with my veeery sharp knife to get all of the remnant paper off. I only know this because I was next to a clock; if I were to gauge this on my own, I would be measuring the time in millennia.
Next step. Satan's spu...um, the glue was pretty much all still left on the top. That along with a dozen divots where the knife plunged a little to deep... But I'm now determined more than ever, I can't stop now. I bust out the steel wool, some soap, and some hot water and just go completely ape-shit-animal-crazy on the glue. Through the haze of my rage, I see that I'm not doing damage to the glue. I pump up the intensity, tears coming out of my eyes, I turn the dial to 11. To my dismay, it's still no results. I get control over my hulk-like rage.
