2005-07-21

things I do that perplex me: volume I

I shake milk.
Vigorously.
I'm not sure why.

Seriously, does all milk really need to be so...frothy? Like a chilled, steam-free, espresso-less latté? And how many more times will I have to clean-up a dairy-spattered kitchen worthy of the goriest CSI: Wisconsin episode before I learn that a) droplets will fly, no matter how tightly I clasp the doors of their paper carton prisons; b) those flimsy-ass fashion-before-function caps atop big plastic jugs are little more than mass-produced pasties; and c) not everyone likes a frothy head on their moo-brew. Or their linoleum. Yeah. Unfortunately, I've been known to shake-it-up in households other than my own. Here's the scene: innocent host(ess) asks me if I wouldn't mind getting the milk from the fridge, then stands dumbfounded as, jug in hand, my forearm starts pumping like...well, I think you can fill this one in for yourself...especially if you conclude said vision with a money-shot of erupting whiteness.

Freud?
You out there?

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