Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Ugh! Popcorn!!

Ugh!  Popcorn!  If I were a superhero, I have no doubt that the bane of my existence would be popcorn.  Superman has Lex Luther.  Batman has the Joker, but my arch nemesis would always be popcorn.

I wouldn't presume to say that popcorn would be my Kryptonite, as popcorn could not and would not ever kill me, but it's mere presence drives me absolutely bonkers.  It's the sound it makes.  Whether it's the throaty popping sound that emits from the kettle or the subtle squeaks it makes as people shovel it into their gullets.  Either way, it drives me as nuts as any squeak or rattle in my vehicle.

Other than my incredible power of parallel parking, another gift that I'm cursed with is incredible hearing.  I possess inalienable ability to hear that which most are incapable of hearing.  I had a hearing test impeded once by a fan that I swore was in the booth with me.  It turned out the be a fan that sat on the floor above the doctor's office.  So it's not impossible that I can hear the squeakiness of the popcorn.

In my youth, I never harboured any ill-will towards the salty snack.  While I never purchased any of the treat when attending the movies, I never hated the stuff like I do these days.  I'd even went so far as to buy the odd box of Pink Elephant popcorn, although if memory serves, Pink Elephant possesses a sort of plastic-styrofoam taste about it.  Explains why I've never even subconsciously craved Pink Elephant in decades.

Many years ago, I worked the night shift at a 24-hour video store.  One of the duties I had, when I came into work was cleaning out the popcorn machine.  I had to scoop out the remaining popcorn, which was sold for a buck, then clean out all the grease and salt, using a strong vinegar-water solution, followed by glass cleaner.  The mixing of those two smells is something that, to this day, still haunts me.  Then there was the cleaning of the kettle.  Everyday, as fresh popcorn was being popped, some batches would be forgotten or the little wing inside the kettle wouldn't be turned on and the corn was forced to just sit there, popping then ultimately burning.  There aren't many things that smell worse, within my circle of experiences, that is, than burnt popcorn.  Perhaps, it's these experiences that solidified my hatred for popcorn.  It's difficult to say for certain.

These days, I can't hardly smell corn without being revolted to some degree.  The reasoning behind that is the cat litter I use for my cat.  The litter is made from corn, which traps his "business" the best I've ever seen, masking the stringent smell that accompanies it.  One time, when I used regular kitty litter, the smell of his pee was so strong, it gave me a bloody nose as I scooped his box clean.  This has never been a factor since making the switch.  I highly recommend making the switch, if you haven't already.

Popcorn, though!  Ugh!!  Next to the annoying f*cks who insist on talking or playing with their f*cking phones, I hate popcorn.  Actually, now that I think of it, I'd place popcorn behind the f*cking losers who bring their f*cking babies to the movies, too.  But it has no place in my home.  No one is allowed to ever bring popcorn into my house.  That's just horse shit!

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