In daily grind news, I bought a canister of butternut squash soup the other week because I saw it and immediately thought no one has ever had a butter idea in the history of soupmaking. I decided to save it for a savory occasion since it was a butter treat than a rare, expensive bottle of wine.
Well, this past weekend, I decided a bowl of soup might make a delicious and calming conclusion to a Sunday afternoon, so I asked boyfie to heat me up a small bowl, to which he dutifully complied.
I polished up my best silver spoon (plastic actually), and gave my heart and mouth the go-ahead, and I went forward for a sipparoo.
It. tasted. TERRR-EEEE-BLEEEEE. (i.e., This is terri-bullshit!)
Like a cloyingly sweet, thin veggie smoothie. Just really the worst pay-off for the most starry-eyed anticipation. Don’t get me wrong. I tried “fixing” it. Added pepper. Added crackers. Added limey tang. Added hugs. It was like a toxic broth that just absorbed everything wordlessly, and just added it to the angry abyss of a flavor. I had to dispose of the rest of it humanely (it wasn’t pretty unless you mean pretty ugly).
In other food horror news, my parents left the country last week for worldwide adventures but neglected to mention the tup of rotten shrimp they left for me in the fridge. I caught sight of it the other night, and Dared myself to open it (I would have chosen Truth, but I always ask the tough questions).
photo courtesy of Flickr and Eli Hodapp
The odor. Oh, the odor. I don’t even have words. It was a silent scream kind of odor. The kind that haunts your dreams but shows up wearing a bunny outfit with the eyes hanging out. I had to deal with it like an adult so I washed it out while praying and then took the contents, triplebagged them (didn’t help), and then threw the specimen away in a trashcan on a college campus (where questionable odors live peaceful existences in many a dorm room).
Finally, my computer went FLIMFLAM today, and I mean, really conked out completely (this was after weeks of foreshadowing freezes and crash hiccups). I had 17+ windows open at the time, and a lot of good faith at work. It then gave me a series of blue screens…no, not just one…several, as if to say, “This is how broken I am.” Then the IT guy charitably descended upon me merely to say “Yeah, this thing is done. This is not my day.” And I thought, maybe it’s not your day, but to be fair, it’s also not really the poor computer’s day. Ol’ faithful is to be replaced tomorrow!!! One more desktop picture change for good times’ sakes.