LJ Idol, Season 9: Week 24 - "The Cupertino Effect"
I'll be the first to admit that we eat fast food far too often in our house. Some days I just don't feel like cooking, at least not beyond the dump-and-nuke stage, maybe a bowl of Campbell's soup with a sandwich on the side, or warming up a frozen Totino's pizza if I'm feeling feisty.
Heating an item in the oven still technically counts as "cooking," right?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Many evenings, especially after a long day at the office, all I want to do is zip through the nearest fast food outlet and have someone else do the hard work for me. If I have the energy, I might even get out of the car and go inside, but typically it's the drive-thru lane for me and mine.
Fortunately, I know what my family likes and what their basic food preferences are, so I don't always have to call or text to find out what everyone is in the mood for. A bucket of extra-crispy KFC with a side of macaroni & cheese, two orders of mashed potatoes with gravy, some green beans, and their delicious biscuits will often satisfy everyone. However, a few months ago I decided to try out a new place, Dante's Fire House Grille.
Dante's menu seemed fairly straightforward - foot long hot dogs and chili dogs, sub sandwiches, burgers, a variety of sides, beverages, et al - but with creative names. A few of the ones I can recall were Dante's Red Hot Danger Dog, the Hellion Half-Smoke Sausage Dog, the brightly colored Super Snappy Red Snappers, and Rhett's "Frankly My Dear".
I knew what I liked, and had a good idea what my husband would enjoy, but since this was a new establishment, I felt I had better check to see what my housemates wanted. I sent off a quick text and got a reply a few minutes later - two all beef Coney dogs - which typically come topped with chili, raw onions, and mustard - one with a side of tater tots and the other with a side of 3-Alarm Fries, plus beverages. Great! I placed the order, poked through the paper bags to make sure everything was accounted for, and drove home.
Everything seemed okay at first - the order was complete, and my Big Bold Bacon Burger was to die for. But when my housemate stuffed several fries into her mouth, she was not expecting the explosion of spicy seasoning that followed, and gulped down several mouthfuls of her raspberry iced tea.
"What... gah... what the hell sort of fries are these?"
"Three-Alarm fries," I told her. "It's what you asked for."
"No! I asked for large fries!"
Of course, I had to pull out my cell phone and show her the text. "See? Right there. It says 'alarmed fries', plain as day."
"Oh man," she replied, slapping her hand to her forehead dramatically. "Dammit, auto-correct, I hate you SO MUCH right now!"
The spicy sriracha fries went directly into the trash - nobody else would eat them - but we couldn't help giggling about the mistaken text for the rest of the evening!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The above story is semi-fiction based upon a factual text, which amused me so much when it happened that I kept a screenshot on my phone. I've inserted two heart "stickers" over my housemate's name for anonymity, but here's the proof of the seed of this entry:
Also, there is no Dante's Fire House Grille in town - or anywhere else - as far as I know.
Heating an item in the oven still technically counts as "cooking," right?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Many evenings, especially after a long day at the office, all I want to do is zip through the nearest fast food outlet and have someone else do the hard work for me. If I have the energy, I might even get out of the car and go inside, but typically it's the drive-thru lane for me and mine.
Fortunately, I know what my family likes and what their basic food preferences are, so I don't always have to call or text to find out what everyone is in the mood for. A bucket of extra-crispy KFC with a side of macaroni & cheese, two orders of mashed potatoes with gravy, some green beans, and their delicious biscuits will often satisfy everyone. However, a few months ago I decided to try out a new place, Dante's Fire House Grille.
Dante's menu seemed fairly straightforward - foot long hot dogs and chili dogs, sub sandwiches, burgers, a variety of sides, beverages, et al - but with creative names. A few of the ones I can recall were Dante's Red Hot Danger Dog, the Hellion Half-Smoke Sausage Dog, the brightly colored Super Snappy Red Snappers, and Rhett's "Frankly My Dear".
I knew what I liked, and had a good idea what my husband would enjoy, but since this was a new establishment, I felt I had better check to see what my housemates wanted. I sent off a quick text and got a reply a few minutes later - two all beef Coney dogs - which typically come topped with chili, raw onions, and mustard - one with a side of tater tots and the other with a side of 3-Alarm Fries, plus beverages. Great! I placed the order, poked through the paper bags to make sure everything was accounted for, and drove home.
Everything seemed okay at first - the order was complete, and my Big Bold Bacon Burger was to die for. But when my housemate stuffed several fries into her mouth, she was not expecting the explosion of spicy seasoning that followed, and gulped down several mouthfuls of her raspberry iced tea.
"What... gah... what the hell sort of fries are these?"
"Three-Alarm fries," I told her. "It's what you asked for."
"No! I asked for large fries!"
Of course, I had to pull out my cell phone and show her the text. "See? Right there. It says 'alarmed fries', plain as day."
"Oh man," she replied, slapping her hand to her forehead dramatically. "Dammit, auto-correct, I hate you SO MUCH right now!"
The spicy sriracha fries went directly into the trash - nobody else would eat them - but we couldn't help giggling about the mistaken text for the rest of the evening!
~*~*~*~*~*~
The above story is semi-fiction based upon a factual text, which amused me so much when it happened that I kept a screenshot on my phone. I've inserted two heart "stickers" over my housemate's name for anonymity, but here's the proof of the seed of this entry:
Also, there is no Dante's Fire House Grille in town - or anywhere else - as far as I know.