Orange You Glad I Didn't Say Bacon?
Okay, bloggers...here comes the good shit.
Over the past weekend, the Lovely Brook and I had opportunity to attend a St. Louis Cardinals game. It was the second game of the week for myself, and each time I was treated to an excellent pitching performance from Chris Carpenter as he wraps up what I'm predicting to be his second consecutive Cy Young Award-winning season.
Now only time will tell if guys wearing the Birds on the Bat can turn things around and make another deep October run.
But this blog really isn't about the St. Louis Cardinals, or even baseball, at all.
On the way to the game, the Lovely Brook and I stopped off at a McDonald's to grab a quick snack before the game.
Oh, and before you ask, yes I've seen Super Size Me and yes I know the risk. So get off my friggin' back!
Anyway, this McDonald's was out in the hinterland of the Show Me State, its only advantage being a proximity to Interstate 70. Walking in, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore as most of the customers appeared to be wearing shoes and have all their teeth.
Just kidding Kansas.
The McD's was sort of oddly configured though. The counter was in the corner of the building, thereby providing the least convenient area from which customers could place an order and subsequently wait for said order.
Imagine it like this. A long, narrow hallway from which to conduct business in which is placed a customer service desk turned at a 45 degree angle.
Sound inconvenient? Well you have an excellent grasp of three-dimensional thinking.
So the Lovely Brook and I placed our orders. She had the caesar salad, served with Newman's Own caesar salad dressing and a medium order of McDonald's world famous fries. I myself ordered one of those new snack wrap things they have. You know, the one with two pieces of breaded, all-white breast meat along with crisp green lettuce and topped with creamy ranch dressing.
After paying the boy at the register, who I'm thinking didn't technically qualify for the ol' "disabled persons at the counter quota" but still didn't have an elevator that went to all floors if you know what I mean, the Lovely Brook and I waited for our order.
Now the order for our food was number 317. I only remember because I heard the manager call out order number 316 for about five minutes.
"Number 316. Double cheese and a med fry. Number 316. Double cheese and a med fry."
Now med it that sentence was pronounced mead. Like that shitty honey-brewed medieval type alcoholic beverage. Which by the way you should never drink, not even on a dare.
Finally the Lovely Brook and I received our order and got back into the car to continue our travels. I glanced over to Brook as she applied dressing to her salad, and at this point I had a some questions.
"Didn't you order a caesar salad?"
"Yes, I did."
"Do caesars normally come with tomatoes and such on them?"
"No, I'm guessing every salad is prepared the same and the only difference is the dressing."
"Interesting."
Now, I almost left it at that, but suddenly my eye caught something that left me dumbfounded.
"What the fuck is that orange thing?"
"Uh, a carrot." (This was said with a bit of a condescending tone I felt was unwarranted. You'll see why.)
"Okay, it's a carrot, but why does it look like a piece of bacon?"
You see friends, the carrot had been sliced lengthwise, and was sliced thinly enough it curled up to the point of looking like a piece of orange bacon. At this point I had the Lovely Brook on my side.
"You're right. That is weird." (Just wanted to prove to you I had her on my side.)
Not a story ready for the Reader's Digest or anything, but I just wanted to share with you something I had never seen before.
Remember the food pyramid.
JeffRey
Over the past weekend, the Lovely Brook and I had opportunity to attend a St. Louis Cardinals game. It was the second game of the week for myself, and each time I was treated to an excellent pitching performance from Chris Carpenter as he wraps up what I'm predicting to be his second consecutive Cy Young Award-winning season.
Now only time will tell if guys wearing the Birds on the Bat can turn things around and make another deep October run.
But this blog really isn't about the St. Louis Cardinals, or even baseball, at all.
On the way to the game, the Lovely Brook and I stopped off at a McDonald's to grab a quick snack before the game.
Oh, and before you ask, yes I've seen Super Size Me and yes I know the risk. So get off my friggin' back!
Anyway, this McDonald's was out in the hinterland of the Show Me State, its only advantage being a proximity to Interstate 70. Walking in, I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore as most of the customers appeared to be wearing shoes and have all their teeth.
Just kidding Kansas.
The McD's was sort of oddly configured though. The counter was in the corner of the building, thereby providing the least convenient area from which customers could place an order and subsequently wait for said order.
Imagine it like this. A long, narrow hallway from which to conduct business in which is placed a customer service desk turned at a 45 degree angle.
Sound inconvenient? Well you have an excellent grasp of three-dimensional thinking.
So the Lovely Brook and I placed our orders. She had the caesar salad, served with Newman's Own caesar salad dressing and a medium order of McDonald's world famous fries. I myself ordered one of those new snack wrap things they have. You know, the one with two pieces of breaded, all-white breast meat along with crisp green lettuce and topped with creamy ranch dressing.
After paying the boy at the register, who I'm thinking didn't technically qualify for the ol' "disabled persons at the counter quota" but still didn't have an elevator that went to all floors if you know what I mean, the Lovely Brook and I waited for our order.
Now the order for our food was number 317. I only remember because I heard the manager call out order number 316 for about five minutes.
"Number 316. Double cheese and a med fry. Number 316. Double cheese and a med fry."
Now med it that sentence was pronounced mead. Like that shitty honey-brewed medieval type alcoholic beverage. Which by the way you should never drink, not even on a dare.
Finally the Lovely Brook and I received our order and got back into the car to continue our travels. I glanced over to Brook as she applied dressing to her salad, and at this point I had a some questions.
"Didn't you order a caesar salad?"
"Yes, I did."
"Do caesars normally come with tomatoes and such on them?"
"No, I'm guessing every salad is prepared the same and the only difference is the dressing."
"Interesting."
Now, I almost left it at that, but suddenly my eye caught something that left me dumbfounded.
"What the fuck is that orange thing?"
"Uh, a carrot." (This was said with a bit of a condescending tone I felt was unwarranted. You'll see why.)
"Okay, it's a carrot, but why does it look like a piece of bacon?"
You see friends, the carrot had been sliced lengthwise, and was sliced thinly enough it curled up to the point of looking like a piece of orange bacon. At this point I had the Lovely Brook on my side.
"You're right. That is weird." (Just wanted to prove to you I had her on my side.)
Not a story ready for the Reader's Digest or anything, but I just wanted to share with you something I had never seen before.
Remember the food pyramid.
JeffRey
posted by The Crazy Leftist at 8:14 PM
1 Comments:
i'm sorry but albert pujols is just trying to tease me every time he puts a jock on. that bulge is just obscene and those hamstrings make me want to start eating meat again.
(p.s. i love baseball)
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