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Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Story Time: Milk

I am in the fortunate position of having many gadget around my house. Such gadgetry as standard issue iPhone 5, a couple of 4's, 4S's, I think we have a 3 around here as well... But it goes beyond my father's Apple product sycophancy and extends into the realms of William Sonoma, Bed Bath and Beyond and GameStop. One of the fancy gadgets that my family has purchased for our sporadic use is a Soda Stream. For those of you that don't know, the Soda Stream enables me to drink as much Diet Coke as I want (provided I have flavoring and filtered water) without having to journey outside of the confines of my home. Not only does it carbonate water, but... well, I'll get to that in a moment.

At the time, my brother, Enzo, was sitting on my bed, looking over my shoulder at my computer screen. I was mindlessly perusing Tumblr, trying to find something to entertain me. As I traversed the wide open span of Tumblr space, I came across a rather intriguing URL:

"carbonated-milk"

Enzo and I are not known for late-night wisdom. We've done things in the past that were classified as "retarded" by a father who didn't know whether to laugh or look further into his insurance policy. Most of our inability to think like a human comes from a lack of rational, which slowly decreases as the day goes on. By the nighttime, all semblance of reasoning and foresight has gone out the window, leaving a couple of turkeys in their stead.

Much like the night when we clamored over each other just to get to the car for some burgers, we staggered out of my room to perform an experiment that, for good reasons, has not been marketed.

For your viewing pleasure, I have included the video documentation of said experiment.

video


I remember quite vividly the spray of white foam and the wonderful distance it got. I gained an appreciation for gasses and chemicals that night as I wiped down my kitchen counters and the appliances in the area. In retrospect, I think I miscalculated just how much carbonation was going into the bottle, probably due to a case of the "I forgot how to work this thing"'s.

Later that night, when the heat had died down, Enzo started walking back to my room again. But this time, he stopped before he crossed the threshold. He looked at the doorframe, and decided to loiter somewhere else in the house.

"I'm not going into your room again because bad things happen. Dark ideas are brewed..." he muttered, turning his back on me.

(If you're wondering, carbonated milk mostly just tastes... really weird.)

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