Book Blog Tour: Quinn
I still have some questions left, but I can't get at them right now, so I'm going to ask myself a question no one has asked yet.
Quinn, what's the weirdest meal you ever ate?
Okay, but you have to remember that I was in my early twenties. I had a roommate, but because we had a house with a teeny pool and he was very social, we usually had about seventy-one people around. Some of them would bring food. Others brought pot and I assume some brought crabs, but I didn't partake of those. One Saturday afternoon, I padded into the kitchen for my first meal of the day. In the fridge was part of the sheetcake someone had brought the day before. You know the kind; it had roses and princesses. I assume they bought it for kitsch value. Or they were really high. Possibly both. Anyway, the Inner Child Quinn shrieked "I GET A ROSE AND A PRINCESS ON MY SLICE!" and I had sheetcake for breakfast. Within a minute, the frosting had coated my mouth and throat so thoroughly that it was like I was eating through a dry-cleaning bag. I drank water. I drank juice. In desperation, I drank cow's milk, which I loathe. Nothing worked. Years later, when I learned about trans-fats, I estimated I had gotten my life's worth in those rosettes and that princess. Finally I thought of something which was either going to remove the sensation or make me not care. I grabbed it from where I had hidden it from the countless house-guests.
It was single-malt Scotch. I poured a shot and sipped it. Not only did it cut the slime, it was oddly wonderful with the cake, the wood-smoke flavor a wild counterpoint to the cloying chemical obviousness. Since I have so little of a sense of taste, I'm sure it would have been completely disgusting to anyone else but I found it nothing short of delightful. No, I wasn't high. It just sounds like it.
I've never done it again. Partially because I fear someone seeing me do it and partially because I fear that like certain other events in my early twenties actually doing it again would just be a little anticlimactic and sad.
posted by Unknown at 4:43 AM
8 Comments:
Oh, but you should just for old times sake...may I make a suggestion Pepperidge Farm Coconut cake with your favorite single malt- I'd choose Oban...neat. :)
Peace - Rene
Oh and I have a question for you...Answer it if you like. :)
I love how you write about your home and furnishings as if they are living characters...the womb like house, the giant gay amoeba couch, the bench of many objects.
What would the Quinn Cummings IKEA collection look like?
oh...I can't eat those grocery store cakes with the fakey icing and lard. But the thought of a special occasion for whiskey does thrill me....
Oh I just love bakery cake - I always eat everyone's icing. For some reason I don't care about the slimy feeling in my mouth - it's worth the joy. Kind of like high heels for other women...
You don't need to convince me about scotch and cake.
Sounds like the perfect antidote to a children's birthday party if you ask me.
I need to get you your Free Association Words. Am in a state of BlogHer madness but will try to get them to you Sunday night.
Here is another question...
I grew up with one of my grandparents' friends named Quinn, a man. In my head Quinn is a boy's name. And I had a great aunt named Aunt Virgil, obviously a woman. To me, Virgil is a girl's name but everyone I have ever met has looked at me funny when I mentioned Aunt Virgil because to them it is a boy's name. So is Quinn a family name? Is it traditionally a boy name or is it either? Do you have a naming story about your name?
UGH---My throat hurts just thinking about all those trans fats...where is my scotch?
My inner child is watching your inner child's memory and screaming for sweets too now!
Post a Comment
<< Home