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So someone up there definitely had it in for my tongue on the eleventh of November. It all started with this Spanish thing where we all brought in food and commented on it with the vocabulary from our new Spanish chapter. There was lots of weeeeeeird looking things that I did not trust my life with. I'm a picky eater so I basically went straight for the good stuff. Like muffins. Mmmm muffins, I thought. Can't go wrong with those. Looks like strawberry too. So I sat down and took a bite. Hmmm...the outside had cinnamon on it, but the bread just tasted like normal bread. Weird. Okay, I'll take a bite out of this strawberry lookin' thing and It'll taste better. eek eek. The fruuuuit...was....SALTY!!!
Disgusting Incident Number Two occured after the muffin fiasco. Quesidillas, I thought. Nice, safe, quesidillas. Wrongo. This mystery meat was spicy. And not good spicy but spicy my mouth is tingly and my eyes are watering unattractively. And I had heard rumors of deer meet in the nachos, so I quickly abandoned the quesidilla.
Next, our teacher made everyone in the class sample this gazpacho she had made. Gazpacho is a cold soup they drink in Spain, and it's basically finely pureed tomato, onion, garlic, etc. Very potent. I caught a whiff it and it nearly knocked me out. Of course, the teacher had warned us we probably wouldn't like it. I should have taken that as a hint and thrown it out right away. Resisting the urge to hold my nose, I forced it down. Sweet Cheesus. I only hoped my throat lining wouldn't wither up and die.
So after school I walked to a friend's house. Excellent, my gross food day was over, no one could force me to eat nasty stuff at home. Wrongo. I wasn't at my home. My alleged "friends" made me try this oriental peanut butter sauce. The second I caught a whiff of it my childhood started falshing before my eyes in bright vivid colors, followed by a prominent image of a salty muffin, followed by a deer and gazpacho.
I refused to try it. It didn't work out so well. They made me try it. I nearly threw up in the sink. Having the feeling I had narrowly escaped death, I woozily made my way to the couch.
The final insult to this horrible day came at the dentists office. I had a "cleaning appointment". Right. All they did was poke my gums until they bled. And then they gave me this...stuff...
called flouride. As in the nasty stuff they make you swish around in your mouth for a looooooong time and it's really gross.
The dentistess offered my a variety of cliche and correspondingly disgusting flavor options. I chose mint, hoping to avoid my last fateful encounter with the strawberry version that was so strong it nearly seared the skin off the roof of my mouth.
Have you ever had salty mint flouride? It's an experience I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. Yuk.
That pretty much ended my day of disgustingness. I avoided exotic foods and lived off cereal for the rest of the day.
The meaning of life can't be torture, because I experienced it with no epiphany.