Last Thursday night was some sort of lantern festival. It was two weeks after New Year's and it's an excuse for discharging all your remaining fireworks.
We went to a public area called Hou Hai and walked around. I bought a squid on a stick.
My wife took this picture. When we got home, she said, "Look, I even got the moon in the shot. It's you and a squid, out for a romantic stroll." Then she cracked up.
We saw squids on sticks in Tianjin and thought, "That is insane." Then we tried some squid at a coworkers birthday and decided it actually was very tolerable. But we still couldn't overcome the fact that there is a squid, and it's impaled à la Shaka Zulu, and then it's gnawed on à la a mischievous dog.
When I was in line to buy the squid (and here I'm using the term "line" so loosely as to do violence to its meaning--perhaps I should write "when I was mid-scrum"), the shop was showing all scrum-members a video of how they prepare their squids. That video did nothing to ease my misgivings. (This is also the case on the subway TVs: they show delicious food, then detail the unappetizing and unsanitary preparation method.)
But I came out the other side with a squid on a stick. We made everyone try a bite. Jerome refused, but he usually complies with stern looks (he's so Chinese already!), so he ended up trying a bite. Then he tried another. Then he asked for more. Eventually, he declared that next time he wants his own.
Post title a paraphrase of obesity-disabled Future Bart.