At Jaya Grocer’s fruits section, I did a double take – they were selling strawberries almost as big as my hand, a punnet for just RM15!
I was flushed with excitement. Picked one up and put it close to my nose. Gotta have a whiff to know if they’d ripe and tasty. It’s all in the smell.
Strawberries from the USA, the Driscoll’s brand (the ones that are readily available to us) often do not have that distinctive strawberry smell. Maybe because they have to travel further. Strawberries from everywhere else – South Korea, Australia etc are hits and misses. You just have to do the whiff test to get the strawberries that you deserve.
You’re probably thinking, eww gross, Suanie smelled the strawberries that I bought, yuck! Well. Let’s approach this from a couple of angles. Yes, you might be miserable, miffed even, knowing that you ended up with berries I said no to. This could be as bad as finding out that your one last chocolate chip cookie is moldy. I like chocolate chip cookies, especially the ones that my Mummy makes, so I’d be really darn pissed off if that happened to me. Thus I’m able to project my hypothetical displeasure unto a vision of you discovering that you ended up with did-not-pass-Suanie’s-whiff-test berries.
Then again, imagine what would happen if *I* ended up with less than perfect berries. Calling all the demons and devils of the universe, hell hath no fury like me finding out that my expensive, imported fruits did not make the mark. There would be storms of anger, brought on by clouds of wrath, unleashing thunders of excruciating pain to… whoever unfortunate enough to be near me at that time. And yes, tables will be flipped.
But really, I don’t think you’ll ever find out if you got my rejected berries. What are the odds?
So I ended up with these BIIGGGGGGGGGGG strawberries and I was SOOOOO excited to eat them! Here’s what one of them looks like in my hand:
Are you thinking, what’s the big freakin’ deal? I tell you what the big freakin’ deal is: I HAVE BIG HANDS! SO THESE STRAWBERRIES ARE MONSTERS! Perhaps they are abnormalities, mutations from aliens predators Sigourney Weaver. Whatever.
It was sweet! Ripe! Delicious! The smell? Intoxicating, like the beautiful boy I had a crush on many years ago, where you just want to bury your face in his neck and be happily drugged with pheromones.
This is where it gets a little weird for some people’s standards. At this stage of my life, I’m aware that I’ve managed to get away with slight eccentricities because everyone’s allowed a certain level of oddity.
That was why my next thought was, hey let me take photos of what else I can fit in my hand!
Once you get over the d*ck jokes arising from the gutters your mind, you’ll realise that I am not f*cking around.
Here’s an air conditioner remote control in my hand.
It’s set at 25/26 degree Celcius because I have complex, stringent requirements for temperature control.
Here’s a calculator in my hand.
Now scroll back and see that strawberry photo again. You will agree with me that it was a big strawberry, yes?
Here’s a bottle of fish oil supplements in my hand.
I should probably start taking them.
Here’s a Douglas Adams book in my hand.
There is a point to be made! It is…