I went to McDonald’s the other night and here was my cup:
If you can’t read it, that says, “Let the bubbles tickle as they quench your thirst.”
Whoa. I’m just not sure I’m ready to move that fast with my value meal on a physical level. First I’m letting the soda tickle me, then a Chicken McNugget is giving me a backrub, before you know it, I’m hanging out in a sauna with the Hamburglar sipping on some wine while he urges me to “relax and let’s see what happens.” All while Grimace kind of hangs out with a camcorder asking me weirdly personal questions about myself. Hey man, how’d you get that in here? Does the gym allow cameras in the sauna? I doze off after awhile, only to wake up two hours later to groggily see Ronald McDonald buckling his belt and tucking his shirt in.
Here’s another thing I saw:
So Paul Sorvino has come out with his own spaghetti sauce. Since he actually is the character he played in Goodfellas, this makes a lot of sense. The slogan on the label might as well be, “Hey, this guy knows his sauce – after all, he’s fat, Italian, and he plays mobsters.”
Having the picture on there is weird. You could just put his name. If the guy who played Big Pussy came out with his own line of ravioli, having to stare at his face while I cook it doesn’t improve anything.
For some reason, I look at that and I think, “Paul Sorvino put his hands in all the sauce.” I’m imagining a factory in Sicily. Giant assembly line with all of these master chefs working together to craft the perfect blend. And there at the end of the line stands Paul Sorvino, dunking his hammy fist in each jar, swirling it around in there real good before they put a lid on it and ship it for sale. He gets into it, too. Sometimes they have to have like, three guys pull his hand out of the jar because he’s going overboard trying to get up in there.
I’d give the Sorvino sauce a chance, but I feel like once I finally get over my fear of Paul Sorvino having put his hands in this sauce, I’ll put together a nice spaghetti dinner in my kitchen only to have shirtless Paul Sorvino walk into my living room and ask me how I like it. And when I ask him how he got in, he’ll just slap me on the cheek and say, “Fugghedaboutit.”