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I had lunch at Chipolte, and saw a sign at the Baskin @ Robbins right next door. They had a new cone called a “double header”. I thought that was probably to ride the buzz of the World Series.
The picture showed the cone. It had a huge top that fit two scoops side by side. And I wondered…who was the marketing genius behind this dopey creation? When we wanted more ice cream, they came up with waffle cones (nothing smells better than those things cooking when you walk by an ice cream parlor in the mall).
As I drove farther down Mira Mesa Blvd, with a burrito from Chipolte that was the size of my forearm, I passed another Mexican fast food joint.
Taco Bell had a big sign in their window for something called a Black Jack taco. The shell was black. And I couldn’t find a thing that looked appetizing about it. No, not just because it was from Taco Bell. But a black shell? It just looked wrong. But some marketing genius thought…we need to give them something new. They’re probably tired of the same yellowish colored taco shells.
The radio played a commercial for McDonald’s. And I heard the McRibb is back. Now is there anything more disgusting than that? I think I’m in the minority, though. Lots of people have told me they like those. Whatever.
I reached over onto the passenger seat looking for my cell phone. I noticed I had a few Starbursts laying there, from one of the many places I’ve acquired Halloween candy. I figured I’d eat the three of them before going to my friends house and trying to finish this 5 lb burrito.
Now, what marketing genius designed these wrappers? I couldn’t open them with one hand. Maybe they need to be wrapped tightly so they don’t go bad. But as long as it’s taking me to open them, and the salivating I’m doing with anticipation of the strawberry and lemon flavored squares that are no bigger than a Scrabble tile…well, by the time the thing hits my tongue, I damn near swallow it whole!
A few hours later, I met a friend at Buca di beppo. I know, I know. I just complained about how big that burrito was earlier. But I eat out a lot. And not even when I’m hungry. It’s usually a social thing with me. You meet a friend at a restaurant.
I rarely go there, because I’m never sure how to pronounce it. Again, gotta love the marketing genius behind naming that place. And no, I don’t care what it may mean in Italian.
The marketing geniuses there also thought it would be cute to show children urinating in photos by the bathroom door. Very strange. Maybe one photo of a 2-year-old, might be cute. But a whole wall filled with kids of various ages?
The waiter asked us if we had eaten there before. We said yes, but the jerk in me took over. I said, “What if we said we hadn’t? What is it you could possibly tell us that we need to know at this point?” The guy looked stunned, and I realized that I sounded like more like Larry David than Jerry Seinfeld. So I smiled and tried to lighten the mood. He took our drink order and walked away. I explained to my friend, who was calling me a jerk, “I just don’t like when I make the mistake of telling a waiter I’ve never eaten there, and they have to tell me the restaurant is in a building that was built in 1934 and how they always have a fresh seafood special for dinner, and…I end up listening to 15 minutes on something written right there on the menu.”
For dessert, we decided on their mini gelato ice cream cones. When the waiter brought them over, it was hysterical. First, because these things are about two inches. The scoop of ice cream was about the size of those big gumballs.
And, he had them on a tray with holes, so he wouldn’t have to touch it as he handed the cone to us. Well, that’s all good and well. But I wondered how the cones got into the tray. Someone in the back was touching it to place it in the hole. Why not have one of those papers wrapper around it? You know the ones, created by marketing geniuses that never decided an easy way to actually peel them off so you can eat the cone.
I didn’t bother explaining this to the waiter. He was a nice guy. And I’m sure he played absolutely no part in any of the restaurant decisions.
I ended my day with some late night racquetball. It was midnight when I stopped at the AM/PM on Friars Road for a fountain drink. I do have to thank the marketing genius behind their crunchy ice. I love chewing that.
I got the biggest sized cup they had. It’s probably 20 times the size of an actual human bladder. I filled it to the top with ice and probably 2 ounces of Diet Dr Pepper. The cup was so big, I could barely hold it with one hand. No biggie, I’d be in my car soon; only to find it has a cup holder that doesn’t hold it. I can’t blame the marketing geniuses for this one. They aren’t thinking about that. I can blame them, though, for making a cup so big, that it didn’t even fit under their own soda dispenser. I had to actually hold the cup at a 45 degree angle to get any liquid in there. And it took me a few attempts at that.
I had lunch at Chipolte, and saw a sign at the Baskin @ Robbins right next door. They had a new cone called a “double header”. I thought that was probably to ride the buzz of the World Series.
The picture showed the cone. It had a huge top that fit two scoops side by side. And I wondered…who was the marketing genius behind this dopey creation? When we wanted more ice cream, they came up with waffle cones (nothing smells better than those things cooking when you walk by an ice cream parlor in the mall).
As I drove farther down Mira Mesa Blvd, with a burrito from Chipolte that was the size of my forearm, I passed another Mexican fast food joint.
Taco Bell had a big sign in their window for something called a Black Jack taco. The shell was black. And I couldn’t find a thing that looked appetizing about it. No, not just because it was from Taco Bell. But a black shell? It just looked wrong. But some marketing genius thought…we need to give them something new. They’re probably tired of the same yellowish colored taco shells.
The radio played a commercial for McDonald’s. And I heard the McRibb is back. Now is there anything more disgusting than that? I think I’m in the minority, though. Lots of people have told me they like those. Whatever.
I reached over onto the passenger seat looking for my cell phone. I noticed I had a few Starbursts laying there, from one of the many places I’ve acquired Halloween candy. I figured I’d eat the three of them before going to my friends house and trying to finish this 5 lb burrito.
Now, what marketing genius designed these wrappers? I couldn’t open them with one hand. Maybe they need to be wrapped tightly so they don’t go bad. But as long as it’s taking me to open them, and the salivating I’m doing with anticipation of the strawberry and lemon flavored squares that are no bigger than a Scrabble tile…well, by the time the thing hits my tongue, I damn near swallow it whole!
A few hours later, I met a friend at Buca di beppo. I know, I know. I just complained about how big that burrito was earlier. But I eat out a lot. And not even when I’m hungry. It’s usually a social thing with me. You meet a friend at a restaurant.
I rarely go there, because I’m never sure how to pronounce it. Again, gotta love the marketing genius behind naming that place. And no, I don’t care what it may mean in Italian.
The marketing geniuses there also thought it would be cute to show children urinating in photos by the bathroom door. Very strange. Maybe one photo of a 2-year-old, might be cute. But a whole wall filled with kids of various ages?
The waiter asked us if we had eaten there before. We said yes, but the jerk in me took over. I said, “What if we said we hadn’t? What is it you could possibly tell us that we need to know at this point?” The guy looked stunned, and I realized that I sounded like more like Larry David than Jerry Seinfeld. So I smiled and tried to lighten the mood. He took our drink order and walked away. I explained to my friend, who was calling me a jerk, “I just don’t like when I make the mistake of telling a waiter I’ve never eaten there, and they have to tell me the restaurant is in a building that was built in 1934 and how they always have a fresh seafood special for dinner, and…I end up listening to 15 minutes on something written right there on the menu.”
For dessert, we decided on their mini gelato ice cream cones. When the waiter brought them over, it was hysterical. First, because these things are about two inches. The scoop of ice cream was about the size of those big gumballs.
And, he had them on a tray with holes, so he wouldn’t have to touch it as he handed the cone to us. Well, that’s all good and well. But I wondered how the cones got into the tray. Someone in the back was touching it to place it in the hole. Why not have one of those papers wrapper around it? You know the ones, created by marketing geniuses that never decided an easy way to actually peel them off so you can eat the cone.
I didn’t bother explaining this to the waiter. He was a nice guy. And I’m sure he played absolutely no part in any of the restaurant decisions.
I ended my day with some late night racquetball. It was midnight when I stopped at the AM/PM on Friars Road for a fountain drink. I do have to thank the marketing genius behind their crunchy ice. I love chewing that.
I got the biggest sized cup they had. It’s probably 20 times the size of an actual human bladder. I filled it to the top with ice and probably 2 ounces of Diet Dr Pepper. The cup was so big, I could barely hold it with one hand. No biggie, I’d be in my car soon; only to find it has a cup holder that doesn’t hold it. I can’t blame the marketing geniuses for this one. They aren’t thinking about that. I can blame them, though, for making a cup so big, that it didn’t even fit under their own soda dispenser. I had to actually hold the cup at a 45 degree angle to get any liquid in there. And it took me a few attempts at that.