Last Thursday I had a “Big Mac Attack.” This happens to me once every few months and when it does, I typically act on it in order to reset my appetite for another few months. This time I went through the McDonald’s drive-thru just up the street from my office. As I was waiting in line, it occurred to me that I should ask for some ketchup to go with my fries (I always order the Number One Value Meal—it comes with a Big Mac, medium fries and a medium drink). I almost always forget to ask for ketchup when I’m satisfying my Big Mac Attack, so I was glad I remembered this time, because ketchup adds whole new dimensions to those Micky-D freedom fries. Having retrieved my food and drink from the second window (I paid at the first window), I pulled into an empty parking space and prepared my meal on my lap. I had been given four packets of ketchup, which would be more than enough. I suddenly realized that I was in for a real treat because the packets said, “Fancy Ketchup.” As I thought about this, I started to get angry. What was so “fancy” about the contents of these four packets? It tasted like ketchup. I looked at the ingredients and found nothing out of the ordinary or fancy on the list. I started to wonder to myself, “So if this ketchup is fancy, where does one acquire the ordinary kind?” Is there such a thing? Maybe that kind they call “catsup” is the ordinary kind…who knows? Then I started to think about the further implications. Somebody was trying to pull a fast one on me. If this particular ketchup was so “fancy,” why was it served to me in tacky plastic packets? Shouldn’t something fancy come in a pretty glass jar, or a small porcelain tureen, or a special, tiny goblet or something? By this point I was finished eating and packed up the leftover rubbish in a state of disgust. But the torch had been lit and I spent the next couple of days ruminating over all sorts of food-related issues and absurdities. These I will now share with you:

Post Grape-Nuts: This is one of my favorite breakfast cereals. I like how it evolves while you eat it, going from hard-as-nails crunchy to sublimely supple and chewy, all in a matter of minutes once you add the milk. Grape-Nuts is proof that a great product supersedes inane and fraudulent naming. Just take a look at the ingredients on the side of the box—no grapes, no nuts. When you buy Corn Flakes, you get flakes made of corn. When you buy Shredded Wheat, you get wheat that is shredded. When you buy Grape-Nuts, you get wheat and malted barley. See? I could deal with this a little bit better if there were even such things as grape nuts (like pine nuts or macadamia nuts) in the first place, but there are no such things as grape nuts. They don’t exist. Never have. It’s like somebody was blindfolded and pulled two pieces of paper from a sack of random nouns to name this product. What’s next, “Wimple-Monkeys,” or “Cadaver-Gaskets.” Ule Gibbons is probably doing somersaults in his pine cone-lined casket.

Nestle “Fun Size” Candy Bars—These come in a big bag and for some reason their size somehow makes them “Fun.” “Hey everybody, look at me! I’m having so much fun eating this tiny candy bar!” “Sad? Listless? Got the blues? Start having fun with these minuscule candy bars!” “Woohoo! I’m in the mood for some fun—I think I’ll buy this bag of runt candy bars” Quite frankly, every time I eat one of these puny scraps of a candy bar I get depressed, wishing I had a whole candy bar.

Chicken In A Biskit Crackers—I did a little research on this product, and found that it was originally introduced in 1968. This gave me some much needed insight into their conception. In 1968, a lot of people were smoking a lot of marijuana. I’ve concocted a scenario where, back in 1967 or so, two guys were sitting around with a bong and satisfying their munchies with some crackers and some chicken when one said, “Dude, like, wouldn’t it be totally, radically cool and groovy if they could, like, put the chicken into the cracker and make tasty little chicken crackers?” “Yeah, baby!” And there you have it—Chicken In A Biskit. I don’t know why they are called “biskit” in the first place, though. Biskit isn’t even a word. Maybe they meant “biscuit,” but forgot how to spell, being in an altered state and all. But why would they even think of biscuits when the damned things are crackers? This is all very frustrating and it makes me kind of angry and sad at the same time.

Smucker’s Uncrustables Sandwiches—Here’s the premise: These are little, round sandwiches with the edges sealed together and the crust cut off. Sounds like an okay idea, especially for the kiddies. It’s the name I have a problem with. The first time I saw a commercial for these a few years back, I became very irritated and upset. What a terrible name, “Uncrustables.” I sort of get the “Uncrust” part (doesn’t have crust). But where the hell does the “ables” fit in? Are they trying a play on “unbelieveable” or a similar word? If so, there must be a “Crustable” in order for there to be an “Uncrustable.” Get it? I’ve never heard one single person say, “Oh, can I fix you a tasty ham and cheese crustable?” Maybe they’ll come out with a sandwich with the crusts called “Crustables.” I don’t think anybody would buy them, though. The whole concept of “crust” and food has always bothered me. Mainly because there are far more disgusting and repulsive crusts/krusts (crusty scab, Krusty the Clown, crusty toenail) out there than there are appetizing ones (like pizza crust or pie crust or the earth’s crust). Being an ad man, I can’t begin to imagine how a name like Uncrustables made it through consumer testing. I wonder if they focus-grouped it with a bunch of scatologists or infectious skin disease professionals by mistake. Who knows? Maybe mixups like this happen all the time in research.

Krusteaz—Their website says: “Krusteaz—a clever mix of “crust” and “ease”—has come to stand for home-baked goodness, fresh from the oven in minutes.” Hmm, um, no. (What is it with all this bloody crust/krust?) A much more clever and correct name would be “Crust-Ease.” But, no, somebody got hooked on phonics and decided to spell for make believe. I don’t care how it’s spelled though, it still sounds like something I’d pre-soak my soiled underpants in.

Fresh-Ground Pepper—As in I just got my food at a restaurant and the server produces a pepper-grinder the size of my leg and says, “Would you like some fresh-ground pepper on your linguine with clam sauce?” It’s pepper, not rare, precious frankincense imported from the remote outback of the Far East, for god’s sake. I usually answer this question with, “No. I’d like some rancid, old, previously-ground pepper, please.” (Most servers are not entertained by my rapier wit)

Keebler Townhouse Toppers—This is a brand-spanking-new cracker that has a little indentation in it to hold various cracker toppings (e.g. cheese, chicken salad, jam—whatever one puts on a cracker these days). Once again, the Keebler folks describe their new crackers on their website: “The Cracker built for Topping! These great-tasting crackers stand up to all your snacking needs. Raised edges help toppings stay put. We’ve Got the Edge.” I don’t know about you, but I’ve never really experienced “topping slippage” when using crackers. It must be a really slow year at the Keebler Treehouse. Maybe somebody over there is associated with some vertigo support group or something, but I can’t figure out how Keebler uncovered the burning need to “help toppings stay put.” Maybe I’m going to the wrong parties or something, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a piece of gouda or tuna salad go flying off a cracker and across the room or onto the floor. “Madge, I thought about serving crackers and toppings, but every time I try, all the toppings fall off and fly all over the place making one hell of a mess.” And what about the whole “The Cracker built for Topping!” nonsense. It’s a cracker, people. Since when are crackers “built?” The non-food equivalent scenario for this would go something like, “Hi Barb, I see you have another black eye. And what’s with the body cast? “Oh my, I slid off the toilet and flew across the bathroom again—I wish somebody would come out with a treaded, skid-proof toilet seat to solve this problem I and scores of others have (furtive sigh).”

Moist—As in “moist cake,” or “moist brownie.” Last time I used the word “moist,” I was called a masher and got slapped across the face.

Bonus

I pass this little disaster of an establishment daily on my way to and from work. Every day I wish it would just go away, or fall over. I’m all for the entrepreneurial spirit, but this is quite a stretch. It’s hard to imagine the state of mind of the individual who dreamt this train-wreck up in the first place. I’ve never mustered up the courage to go inside—some things are better left to the imagination, at least for me. Do they put Snuggle in the potato salad instead of mayonnaise? The whole concept of eating food prepared in a laundromat just scrambles my mind. I’m leery about breathing in a laundromat, let alone putting food in my body in one. I bet they don’t do very well on the feeder side of the business, because the last time I stepped foot into a laundromat, I could barely eat for two weeks.

WEEKEND UPDATE

This past Saturday I got up late and went to get my hair cut by Brian at BR Salon. Then I went with my friend Aylie to get a new TV at Best Buy (she purchased a sweet 52” Sharp Aquos). After helping her with setting it up, I went home and watched the Olympics on TV. I also prepared a very nice Certified Angus rib eye steak, asparagus spears and a baked potato with sour cream. I went to bed around 11:30 p.m.

On Sunday I got up late, did two loads of laundry (colors) and ran errands. I purchased eight cans of cat food, a 110 count bottle of antacid, a bag of ice and various cat toys. When I got home in the afternoon, I deployed some of the new cat toys, which Cosmo and Cocomungous seemed to enjoy. Late in the day I went to see the new movie Pineapple Express with my friend Eran. I haven’t laughed at a movie like that in a very, very long time. After the movie we stopped at Trader Joe’s where I bought a prepared rack of lamb, basmati rice and some strained Greek yogurt. I went home, watched more of the Olympics, prepared the lamb, and rice along with a small salad and ate around 8:30 p.m. I went to bed at 11:00 p.m. and woke up around 4:00 a.m. with a horrible lower back spasm and I’ve been in excruciating pain ever since.