Saturday, January 10, 2009

Italian Soda

I just went to make dinner and found out I was slightly short on the amount of milk I needed. Luckily, upon opening the fridge again, I found some. Not so luckily, I shut the door and a bottle of my roommate's Italian soda fell from the top of the fridge to the floor, putting a hole in the cap. The problem was that I didn't realize what was happening until pink liquid began furiously spraying my face.

I didn't know what to do, I just stared at the bottle as it lay on the floor, spraying every square inch of myself and the kitchen. I was a little inclined to laugh. The bottle was huge, and apparently had been shaken violently or the tumble to the floor angered it quite a bit because it seemed like a river busting down an old dam at sunset.

For a moment, I thought I could leave it to spraying my kitchen. It would become somewhat of a tourist oddity and I could make money showing people the strawberry geyser of St. Paul. Come one, come all! Only $5/person to see the amazing pink spray that has mysteriously taken up residence in an apartment kitchen!

But then I came to my senses. The bottle, as mentioned before, was ginormous. It looked as though it could continue to puke its contents all over my kitchen, much like a scene from Ghostbusters, for days, possibly weeks, maybe even months.

I quickly picked it up, causing myself to get sprayed in the face even harder, and shoved the hole in the cap down the sink drain. I looked around the kitchen. An entire wall, the fridge, stove, dishwasher and most of the counters and cabinets were victims of the massacre, not to mention myself. I went to shower. When I looked in the mirror, I had pink highlights in my hair.

I dedicate this blog post to my mom, who once, moments before a party she was hosting, opened a bottle of carbonated water, only to have it explode in her face, hair and on her clothes. I can no longer tease her about that day.


  1. "[L]iquid began furiously spraying my face."


  2. That same thing happened to me last year, but with a skillet I had left on the stove until it sprayed molten metal everywhere.

  3. Haha! I am crusing yr teaching journal, seeing posts about our apartment.

    Don't know it I can remember my identity, but this is Jess. If you couldn't tell by the fact that I live in your apartment. But you never know, the FATHER secretly lived in the adddic for ages in your show. That you watch. It's late, and I r stupid.