Last weekend I had some people at my house for what we termed “International Beatles Rock Band Day.” As is easily surmised by the title, the day was all about playing Beatles Rock Band. The tricky part is that “International.” What made it international? I will tell you: having someone from another country/continent is what makes it international.
Brian, Angela & Josh (married!), Matt, and Carolyn were the out-of-town attendees, representing (in order) Albuquerque, NM; Jacksonville, FL; Chicago, IL; and Hurstbridge, VIC, Australia. So, Carolyn’s presence is what made it “International.”
We’ve all known each other for 4-5 years online, and I’ve met a couple of them before, but if you had told all of us 4 years ago that we’d ever get to meet Carolyn, we most likely wouldn’t have believed you. So when we found out she was coming to visit, we all freaked out and got really excited.
Until she mentioned the vegemite
. As in, “When I come to the States, I am bringing vegemite and you are all going to try it.” We got a little nervous, but we were pretty sure that she’d never be able to get that stuff past Customs, so we felt safe.
When she arrived in-country a week before IBRBD, she announced that she had no problem getting it in the country and that we should all resign ourselves to our fate.
Sure enough, when everyone got here and were preparing for the start of IBRBD, she toasted up some bread and slapped some vegemite on it.
Now, I feel I must at this point say that I don’t mind the smell of skunk. I wouldn’t want it on me, but if I’m passing through a cloud of skunk smell as I’m driving somewhere, it does not horrify me. But you should know, dear reader, that the smell of vegemite horrified me. It was like the smell of stale bread, only with a lurking vengeance buried beneath the surface, waiting to strike, maim, and consume anyone who got within tentacle’s reach of it.
But I had promised I would try some, so I gamely accepted my corner of vegemite-infested toast and ate it. I could write you a thousand words as to my reaction, or I could just save you a lot of reading and show you:
It may be difficult to discern from the picture, but my twisted visage should somewhat convey a similar sentiment to Colonel Walter E. Kurtz‘s last words: