Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Youth's the Most Unfaithful Mistress

Dashboard Confessional; The Swiss Army Romance

Tim and I spent Memorial Day weekend in Santa Barbara. It was both relaxing and overdue...unfortunately, Tim and Chris weren't able to go out on the boat, but we did have fun shopping in Solvang, seeing the new Indiana Jones, sleeping in, BBQ-ing, and eating TONS of good food.

I guess I should preface what I'm about to write with a short back-story: About a year ago, Tim and his dad went deep-sea squid-fishing. This type of trip entails a long boat ride out to the middle of nowhere, and requires participants to wake up at all hours of the night to reel lines 400 feet into the black abyss of the ocean and patiently wait for a giant squid to confuse neon rubber bait with a live meal. The trip proved successful, and since then our freezer has hosted dozens of frozen squid slabs, neatly stored in vacuum-zipped packages. The surplus of ocean meat that consumes our freezer leaves room for little else, although the only other thing we need to store in there is Otter Pops, so space-wise it works out. Anyway, last Friday Tim decided to de-frost some of the squid packages in the refrigerator. We did not eat this meat before we left for Santa Barbara, therefore it sat in the refrigerator over the weekend. Usually, this wouldn't be cause for concern, however the vacuum-seal failed to stay, uh, vacuumed. Last night when we got home (after 10:00 PM, by the way), we opened the front door of the apartment to the faint smell of rotten fish. I will admit at this point, the smell was bearable, but then I had to go and ruin it by opening the fridge door. At that moment, the wafting WALL of putrid squid juice came barreling out in a suffocating foam and enveloped our entire apartment. The juice had spread not only across the shelves of the fridge unit, but also into each of the compartment drawers. I will spare you more details, but suffice it to say I could taste the squid permeating the milk in my cereal this morning. Psychological? Possibly. Disgusting and rank? Absolutely. I have a feeling I will never be able to order calamari the same way...


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