Mar. 10th, 2009

quasigeostrophy: (Default)
...there are a few I can detect. One in particular brings back interesting memories.

I'm not big on pesto. I used to think it was decent, but thanks to this association, it's definitely not a favorite. My office mate, C, just had a microwave lunch with it, and I shared this story with her as well.

Way back between 11th and 12th grade in high school (summer '83), some friends and I visited another friend who was doing some sort of summer internship experience at Fermilab outside Chicago. He was rooming with some post docs and other visiting scientists in a small house in the little village on the property, so we crashed with him for the weekend. On Saturday, our 2nd night, close to 1:00am, I was awakened by the weirdest odor I think I'd ever encountered. I wandered out toward the source, into the kitchen, where three of the older residents were making spaghetti with homemade pesto.

With marijuana.

They asked if I'd like some. I politely declined, saying I wasn't hungry, and, thanks to the scent, that was true.

I'd smelled 420 before, and I'd had pesto before, and my brain couldn't figure out what in the combination was doing this. To my nose, anyway, take about as much methyl mercaptan (the stuff that's added to natural gas to give it an odor) or hydrogen sulfide (farts, rotten eggs) you can handle and double it.

Marijuana pesto. Sheesh. :-)

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