Seriously, does anyone want to eat pizza out of a baked cone? Wouldn’t I just look like an idiot eating, like, ham and eggs or chicken quesadilla out of what is basically an ice cream cone?
With its easy-to-handle shape, the Crispy Cone is the food you’ll love to eat on the move. Whether in the car, the mall, or walking down the street, the Crispy Cone lets you enjoy its delicious, hassle-free flavors while shuffling through your MP3, driving your car, working at your desk or talking on your cell phone.
I want to see the infomercial for this… Desaturated video of an old dude walking down the street eating ham and eggs from expensive china, and he trips and spills it all over his shirt, breaking the china plate as well. ” There’s got to be a better way!” he screams.
Voiceover: Introducing the Crispy Cone! All the fun of an ice cream cone, with all the tasty goodness of Chicken Teriyaki.
The rest of the weekend went well. Saturday was a day of fun and excitement at the Food and Wine Festival.
EPCOT, as you may know, is partitioned into countries, with scenes exhibiting the plethora of stereotypes that Disney engineers held about all 12 nations of our great planet. So, in that vein, the food/wine/beer exhibits were sectioned by country. Heather enjoyed a Lamb Slider from New Zealand. In “Argentina”, I had a Spicy Beef Empanada worthy of José Olé®. I sipped, even in 90 degree weather, a small cup of Cheese Soup from Canada.
You’d think this would mean there were exciting beer selections from these countries. But unless Tsing Tao, Kirin, and Peroni make you feel like you’re sitting in Beijing, Tokyo, or Milan, the beer selections at the Festival were nothing to write home about. The only beer I hadn’t heard of at the entire festival was Brahma, a fruity Brazilian brew. Blah.
Sam Adams, over in the “America” exhibit, had a whole smattering of Sam Adams brews, like their Cherry Wheat and whatever. That normally wouldn’t pique my interest at all, but they had a “11th Annual Festival Brew” that was a nice robust porter. Probably the best Sam Adams I’ve ever had, though their Summer Ale isn’t terrible.
All in all, there wasn’t much free beer, and there wasn’t anything I hadn’t had before, so I call it less than optimal. However, it was a day of walking around, stopping every 10 feet to eat and drink, and watching fireworks, so as far as theme parks go, I wholeheartedly approve.
Saturday evening was fantastic. We filled up exquisitely at The Yachtsman steakhouse and then had a front-row seat for the fireworks display back over at EPCOT. We returned home only to watch Georgia squeak by yet again against Ole Miss. Do I regret this year’s wager with Rusty? No. Am I worried about it? A little.
Good: I’m in Florida with the wife visiting her parents. It’s a beautiful day.
Bad: Things went awry at work this week and I’m stuck in the inlaws’ kitchen (probably technically a breakfast nook) working away on my laptop today. It’s kind of a bummer, compared to all of the relaxing and non-work things I could be doing.
Good: I’m not in the office. I’ll finish putting out fires and can have a relaxing weekend without any calls from work. Then, we can enjoy the 11th Annual EPCOT Food and Wine Festival properly.
The phrase “Over the course of the Festival, there will be 1200 beer and wine seminars scheduled with complimentary samples” resonates pretty well with me…
It was a very good weekend. Friday was a big work event up at Château Élan. I found, as usual, that no matter how nice the course is, I’m still pretty bad at golf. Saturday, we got some of the gang together and went out to celebrate my birthday at The Vortex and go have some drinks. Our fun was interrupted by the rain, however, and we had to hole up at Skippy’s place shooting pool and playing foosball. Not a bad way to celebrate one’s birthday.
Yesterday, we stayed inside (more rain) and I opened presents. The highlights were a DVD burner (yes, I’ve now entered the 21st century) and some very snazzy work clothes. Oh, and if you see me on MARTA reading any of the books in the Halo series, please try not to make fun of me. They’re interesting books.
The DVD burner makes my life much better, computer-wise. While I do have 440GB of space on my local hard disks (excluding iPods and other various external storage), I still seem to have a surfeit of large files that I don’t need daily access to, but can’t bring myself to delete. Now, I can burn them off 4.7GB at a time and make room for more important things, like archived shows from the Tivo and my 40GB of uncompressed video from our wedding that I’ve got sitting on there.
Is it just me, or are we past the point where you’re allowed to complain about the complexity of the process at Starbucks? Not only are the sentiments “OMG Starbucks is teh confusing” and “Small = Tall? What a country!” incredibly overused and flat out not funny, but people usually talk about their confusion as if they’re the first coffee novice to ever experience this problem.
There is no tolerance for novices who do have enough respect for the fancy-coffee place to study and learn the culture. I could feel the cold stares of the experienced customers who were full of heavy-syllable words spelling caffeine relief ending in “o” and I was requiring them to dam up this river of syllables until I could babble, in layman’s garble, a pitiful attempt to order something that may not even end in “o.”
I could feel the hostile text-messaging going on around me.
I didn’t want to be here now. I now wanted to be somewhere else, maybe drinking a cup of coffee in the English language.
It’s not like Detective Rose strolled into the Starbucks at 7th and Broadway in Manhattan. He’s probably talking about the location on Roswell Rd. near Hammond, around the corner from a big-ass Kroger, and across the street from a McDonald’s. I’ve been there many times. You generally encounter soccer moms and landscapers here just as often as you see graphic designers and music critics. The big difference, apparently, is that said soccer moms actually figured out what kind of coffee they sell years ago.
“What size would you like that in sir?” said the coffee technician.
“Small.”
“Tall?”
“No, small.”
“Small is tall sir.”
“Tall sounds big. Small sounds like what I want. Is tall the same size as small?”
“All I know is tall is small so small must be tall.”
I’m in a Dr. Seuss cartoon.
[from this week's View From The Cop, an AJC blog written by a Sandy Springs police officer]
Yes, sir, you’re in a Dr. Seuss cartoon. Welcome to 1996, when everyone else made the same observation and then got over it.
I saw an intriguing Gmail ad when I was checking my email just now, and I clicked it. Let me just say that it really makes me swell up with pride and feel like America is the greatest country in the world when I see these two simple words: Subscription Beef.
Cue mental images of a cowboy slicing into a thick steak with an American flag waving behind him, all in slow motion…
Last week’s travel in the Vonkmobile:
Atlanta → Jupiter → Orlando → Jupiter → Orlando → Atlanta
I consumed amounts of food that would likely prepare me to hibernate for several months in a cave, were I a bear. (A bear who likes fried eggs, stuffing, and pumpkin bread, as I assume most bears would.) We played a lot of ping pong, a little tennis, and a good amount of Rummikub. It was the relaxing vacation that many people complain about not experiencing when they travel. Heather and I went up to Orlando twice: once mid-week to visit Disney World, and once on our return trip to Atlanta to celebrate Thanksgiving with her parents.
Another common travel annoyance that we avoided? Traffic. Thanks to some strategic planning, we encountered very little traffic in both directions.
The holidays in Florida feel a little strange. There’s just something different about picking out a Christmas tree in 85 ° heat or coming off the tennis court in shorts to eat leftover turkey and stuffing.
We had a fire drill at work today, and we found out yet again that yes, my employer employs people able to walk down stairs. Amazing.
The last time we had one, when I finally got down from the 10th floor, to our delight, they had ice cream trucks waiting for us with free ice cream (it was July or so). This time, I had to walk across the street to Borders and get a latte for my own damn self.
In coming days, KFC will have television commercials ready to reassure customers that its chicken is safe to eat if there is a bird flu outbreak. The chicken chain said Tuesday it hopes the spots never have to air, but it’s taking no chances in the face of a potential threat to business.
[...]
“The message is to reassure consumers that eating cooked chicken is perfectly safe,” Blum said. “As our investors would hope, we are being proactive in preparing the materials in the event that we need to use them.”
-KFC Plans TV Ads to Respond to Bird Flu
Weasels, they’re not at all related to measles! - The American Weasel Council
Really, since the Avian Flu virus can’t be transmitted through cooked food, by killing and cooking these birds, KFC is doing its part to protect us from the virus, Pamela Anderson be damned!
I can’t help but wonder what these ads look like… Do they show an Asian family ripping off their breathing masks and chowing down on a bucket of Extra Crispy? Is there a famous actor on screen to assure us that the food is safe to eat? (”Hi, I’m Troy McClure. You may remember me from such public safety ads as Tylenol — Now Cyanide Free! and Where Did Those Bananas Come From, Curious George?“) Plus, is this really a unique selling proposition for KFC? Are they going to claim that their competitors’ chicken is utterly laced with bird flu?
