Booze Review: Fizzliss Old Fashioned Lemonade + Vodka

Booze Review: Fizzliss Old Fashioned Lemonade + Vodka

Fizzliss is an apt description.

Built into the human genome is a predisposition toward enjoying bubbles. All things bubbly. Bubbles in my bath, bubbles that meander through the air, Bubbles shooting up heroin in the streets of West Baltimore. A momentary existence punctuated with a satisfying *pop*; there is no situation that does not benefit from the inclusion of bubbles. So, understand my bewilderment towards the trend of non-carbonated, water-based RTD’s. The most unequivocally boring way to get drunk.

Fizzliss’ Old Fashioned Lemonade + Vodka tastes like it was intentionally left open on a table overnight. If this were sold as ‘Old Fashioned Lemonade’ by a child-run makeshift street stall, you would report the kid for operating without a licence. I did not enjoy this drink. I found that after each swig I was involuntarily mouthing “yeuch” as the mix clung to my poor tongue. Any natural goodness offered by the lemons was lost, leaving me sourer than any acidity found in a can. Ironically, the only thing that could elevate this drink would be carbonation.

If I were to ask a friend to mix a drink, and they brought me a shot of vodka mixed with still water and a squeeze of lemon, I would be concerned. That is not a cocktail, it is a cry for help. This behaviour is becoming all too common, with many RTD’s boasting that they are high in alcohol, low in calories and sugar, and good for the planet. A mighty boast for literal poison. I would rather drink something that tastes good and is unabashed about how bad it is for you, as opposed to something that tastes bad and wraps itself in a bow of goodness. I would be less offended if they leaned into the whole “this is flat so you can shotgun it” approach, which would justify nearly every other flaw. But they don’t.

This review may seem hypocritical as I choose to lambast an intentionally non-carbonated drink over its lack of carbonation, but with a name like “Fizzliss” it would seem strange to not question their lack of carbonation. It's like if I called my cock Jizzliss and got upset when girls asked why I didn't cum. Named after its own gimmick, in an attempt to separate itself from one of the mainstays of popular RTD culture, you would think the drink should be able to stand for itself. I find it insulting that a box of these costs $29, the same price as all other carbonated RTD’s, as they have taken away a crucial component and failed to fill its absence with anything of quality. Without delightful bubbles to hide behind, you’re left with nothing other than a disappointingly below-average lemonade.

I have ventured into the water-based RTD market and returned surprisingly dry. I discovered that when alcohol isn’t fun, it is terrifically depressing and boring. I am not shy in my dislike of these products, as I do not want to promote a terrible lifestyle propped up by mediocrity. I will do anything to hide and prolong our bad habits, and if that means advocating for bubbles, so be it.

Tasting notes: A bottle of natural, no-chemical, lemon dish soap.

Chugability: 10/10. They are the best beverage to shotgun.

Hangover depression level: 10/10. I feel morally (and financially) bankrupt drinking these.

Overall: 1/10. But at least they don’t make you shit yourself anymore.

This article first appeared in Issue 13, 2023.
Posted 5:18pm Monday 29th May 2023 by Albert Einsteinlager.