San Diego Part 1: Soup Splode

I'll start with the end result. The money shot.



I feel better. Now, here's the story behind the splosion...

My friend Solomon resides in San Diego. He is a man of peculiar smells, probably from all the vitamins he takes. He strongly encourages me to take the same supplements as him, but I'm not falling for that shit. The lord gives me all the nutrients I need.

He works security in an upscale condo building, and rich bitches are always trying to hop on his bandwagon. Oftentimes they attempt to seduce him with food, ranging from delicacies like lobster ravioli to ordinary containers of leftovers your mom sends you home with.

On the last day I was in Big Sandy, Solomon received a ziploc bag full of squash soup from a female admirer. It looked like a sack of gremlin vomit. Bitch, please, supplying a bag of soup is not how you win a man's hard, pulsating love. At least not an American man. Perhaps a Slovenian man would appreciate your grody liquid gesture.

Needless to say, the soup sat untouched on the kitchen counter for at least 12 hours. Around midnight or so, Solomon asked me if I thought the soup was safe to eat after sitting out for so long. I told him it wasn't. He asked me what I think he should do with the bag of slop. I told him to whip it out the kitchen window, which is my stock answer to most questions. He agreed.

Grasping the bag, he backed up from the window and gently began swinging it like a horseshoe player readying a toss. I found this amusing. Then he looked me in the eye and asked if I thought he should take a running start. This confused me, because even though the whole operation was stupid as hell, his question was really dumb. This wasn't an Olympic event, a simple toss would suffice. But before I could answer, he was off and running. Pop! I saw an upward explosion of yellow slime followed by a sickening splatter sound. He had missed the opening completely.

There was a brief moment of stunned silence before the laughter began. For a good five minutes, we laughed like the idiots we were. Then, after our best chuckles were spent, he got to cleaning. I watched and took pictures.




Shit was everywhere. It was all over the ceiling, the plants, the blinds, and the fridge. Not to mention Solomon's clothes and hair.




I'm still impressed by the sheer ridiculousness of it all. And to have witnessed such an event, I am honored. All I can say is bravo, sir. Bravo.