Tag: satire

Drinks in a Cone

Some clever folks have come out with coffee in a cone. Which, you know, immediately raises interest in, what kind of cone, and why coffee? Why not beer, or wine in a cone?

The coffee in a cone uses a waffle cone. The problem of coffee leaking through the cone quickly arose. The entrepreneur addressed the issue by adding four layers of chocolate to the cone. If you’re not a chocolate lover (I can’t believe those words can even be true), then you might think, doesn’t entice me, thanks. I don’t like chocolate. But surely other coatings can be applied to the cone. Like caramel or maple, or something. I don’t know. Don’t ask me, I just think here.

Returning to collateral ideas, I brainstormed about what kind of cone I can use to hold my beer, and what I should coat it with. Cheese?

Pardon me a moment while I address my gag reflex.

I like beer and cheese but I canna wrap my brain around drinking beer in a cheese coated cone. Hmmm, wine…maybe.

Can you imagine ordering? “Hi, I’d like a red blend wine cone.”

“Which red?”

“Three Vineyards Oregon blend.”

“What kind of cone, sir?”

“Do you have anything gluten free?”

“Yes, we have a pretty nice olive and rosemary rice cone. I have samples here. Would you like to taste it?”

“Oh, yes, thanks. Oh, that’s good. And that’s gluten free? Okay, I’ll try that.”

“Yes, sir, what size?”

“Grande.”

“And what kind of cheese would you like as your coating?”

“Hmm…I’ve having a red wine…do you have sharp cheddars?”

“Yes, we have several cheddar variations, including white. There’s the list, up here behind me.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see that. Hah. If it was a snake….”

“Would you like to sample any cheese?”

“Yes, let me try that Face Rock sharp white  cheddar, thanks. I always like Face Rock’s cheeses. Yes, that’s good. I’ll go with that.”

Fifteen dollars and a few minutes later, you have your grande cheese wine cone. Of course, even with the coating, the coffee dissolves its cone cup in about three minutes. I believe we’d have a about the same amount of time for the wine cheese cone. Chug, chug.

Going back to the beer cone, we can probably have an entire sandwich in a cone, you know, like turkey with Swiss cheese. Using a rye flour cone, we’ll wrap the innards with the turkey and layer it with hot melted Swiss cheese. Then we’ll deep fry that sucker, fill it with beer (“What beer do you want, sir?”) and sell it at state fairs. And then, someday in the future (which, I know, is a bit redundant, but I’m selling an idea here), we can have National Drinks in a Cone Day.

Next: Pizza in a cone. And then stir-fry in a cone, and burritos in a cone….

Isn’t progress amazing?

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

 

 

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Oh, The Heat

It’s hot and I am compelled by Internet Law to write about this heat.

This heat, what, 105, 107? It’s just ruining things. Look what it’s doing to my electric bill when I run my air-conditioning. And the water bill when I water the lawn and plants. Yikes, you should see, you really should. It’s unbelievable.

It’s too hot to do anything but sit. It even affects my Internet connection, can you believe it? I’m serious, when the heat gets over 97, the Internet connection becomes spotty, don’t ask me why, but it really makes it so hard to post anything or find out who’s doing anything. THANK GOD for my iPhone!

It’s so hot, I can barely move. Even when I don’t move, I’m sweating. Look, I’m sweating now, and this is inside, in the shade. We’ve put up awnings and umbrellas on the porches and patios, and there is the pool for a cool dip but even these reliefs are so momentary because you wouldn’t believe the breeze, it’s like fresh out of a pizza oven. Speaking of which, we wanted to grill pizzas tonight but I told them, it’s just too hot for us to do that. Let’s go to a fun restaurant with air conditioning and spoil ourselves with fine food and drinks.

Otherwise, I’m just going to have to sit inside and read in the air conditioning today, and what fun is that? That’s hardly living. We should go away somewhere until this heat wave ends. Like Vegas! You check for some flights and I’ll look for a room. The Bellagio! I love it there!

Road trip! I am literally so excited. I can’t wait until this heat wave ends.

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Delivery Rules

I know he’s out there. Watching. Waiting, exercising Zen patience. I know the Delivery Rules.

First Rule: inconvenience the customer as significantly as possible.

It’s not about profit and loss or corporate vision and mission statements. It’s about people with power. They have the package. I want the package. So they have the power.

Oh, delicious power, how they love watching me leap up when a truck passes my house. “Is that it?” they mock, imagining my voice, bringing up their super-powerful binoculars to see my disappointment, laughing as they finger a few more drooping French fries into their mouth.

They don’t know that I know the rules. I’m aware of them and their delivery watch. “Keep hidden,” I tell my wife. “Don’t go past any windows.”

“This is ridiculous,” she answers.

“Shhh,” I hiss, pointing up. “They’re listening.”

She stares at me.

I explain, “They’ll know you’re here. We want them to think we’re not home or can’t come to the door.”

Amazement disturbs her gaze. “And why do we care if they know I’m here?”

“Shhh.” I look out the windows. Of course I can’t see a delivery vehicle. They’re not fools. They cloak the van with invisibility so they can stay out there, watching, without being detected, until they believe I’m not home or available and ‘attempt’ delivery. I know how this works.

I move closer to my wife so I can whisper. “They’re out there. They’re waiting for me to leave or take a shower. Then they’ll ring the bell. I won’t hear it so they’ll leave a notice and try again tomorrow. That’s how they get you.”

She stares at me. I don’t know what that look means. “How do I fit into this?” she asks in a Very Normal Tone.

Her refusal to keep her voice down disturbs me. “Quiet,” I hiss. “Come on. What’re you trying to do?” Realizations penetrate my thinking. “They got to you, didn’t they?”

Her eyes widen. “Who?”

But I get it. I understand. “Never mind.” I smile. “I was just joking.” I let slip laughter. “Pretty convincing, wasn’t I?”

She doesn’t seem convinced but I put her behind me and leave the room. Out there, in the living-dining-kitchen great room, I pace and pace, trying to figure out what I can do.

But it doesn’t matter. They have her. They’ve already won the day. Yet, I can’t give up. Not that easily. I’ve been playing the game too long. This isn’t my first delivery. “I’m going to take a shower,” I call, very loudly.

“Okay,” she answers, a mumble.

I go into the master bath and turn on the shower, hoping to fool them, and then slip into the hall to get to the front door to wait. I meet my wife coming down the hall. She looks startled. “I thought you were taking a shower.”

Checking on me. Oh, I get it. I smile. “I am.”

“But you have all your clothes on.”

I nod. “I know.”

Shaking her head, she walks past, saying, “I think you need to relax.”

Relax, oh, they’d like that. Hearing her turn off the water, I run back into the bathroom. “What are you doing?”

“You’re wasting water,” she replies.

Pushing past her, I turn the water back on. She’s talking but I can’t understand her. “What?” I ask. She’s talking again but I still can’t understand her. “What?” I shake my head. “I can’t hear you. You’re talking too low.”

Diversion, I realize, and then the phone rings. The rules require them to ring the doorbell, but if I don’t hear it or answer in time, they leave – and then they won. “Was that the doorbell?” I run for the door and yank it open as my wife answers the phone.

A notice hangs from the door handle. I rush out to see if I spot the truck, a rookie error born from frustration. They already cloaked the truck. Nobody can hear or see it now.

“Did your computer come?” My wife asks from behind me.

I smile without looking back. “No. They left a notice.” I go back in past her, glancing at her face. They got to her. I see it in her brown eyes. I don’t know how. Probably bribed her with a discount coupon for shoes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, closing the door, but there’s no sorrow in her voice.

“That’s okay,” I answer with false cheerfulness. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Yes, there’s always tomorrow, when we’ll play again. I know the rules.

Someday, I’ll win.

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When Does Food Go Bad?

First, we must consider, what do we mean when we say Food has ‘gone bad’?

Short of Food killing other Food or leaping out of the refrigerator or cupboard with weapons in their hands or explosives strapped around its jar or box, it’s often difficult to determine when Food has gone bad. Some will consider Food bad much more quickly than others, refusing to eat it because it’s ‘gone bad’, while others, particularly bachelors, will dismiss claims Food has gone bad and eat him anyway. This is often true with Food like Pizza, but not Beer and Wine. When Beer goes bad, it becomes skunky, with a foul taste, or flat. Wine takes on a sour, bitter tone that reminds you of Bitter Ben.

Milk, on the other hand, doesn’t fake it when it goes bad. Beware of Milk that has gone bad. Milk that goes bad can become violent, even explosive, with lingering results.

Also watch out for Fish and Meat that has gone bad. You know what I mean.

Food can go bad for many reasons. Food sometimes goes bad as an acting out mechanism when he’s not getting the attention he thinks he needs or deserves. Sometimes Food isn’t happy with his home life, or he gets left out of activities, locked up and forgotten. He might go bad because of his environment. The temperature might be too low, permitting low life bacteria to affect Food. Or Food is shut up with undesirables who put out gases, pressuring Food to spoil.

But that is the nurturing aspect of Food going bad. Sometimes Food goes bad because he was born bad, co-existing with other materials that negatively affects Food, like when Food wasn’t washed properly after he was picked. Personal hygiene is very important to help keep Food from going bad.

When Food goes bad is like many problems throughout human existence, with multiple facets to consider for dealing with the situation. Constant monitoring and early detection is important to save Food. Sometimes bad Food can be saved by re-purposing it. Some Food can be frozen and used later when they go start going bad. The thing to remember is that every Food is unique, and what you learn about one Food may not apply to other Foods. If in doubt about whether Food has gone bad, ask a cat. If a cat walks away from it, the Food has probably gone bad.

Cats just don’t tolerate bad food. Just ask any cat person.

Note: no food was harmed while I wrote this post, but several cats were annoyed and disappointed. Now they want something else that isn’t ‘Food gone bad’.

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