Deep Fried Coke

(originally published 2007-09-04)

I went to the infernal Cheesecake Factory today for lunch with all the guys at work. I had the eggplant sandwich. I couldn't have been more dissatisfied; it was slimy and distinctly not tender.

A large dose of conversation was had in relating Texas State Fair experiences to each other. I mostly listened because I don't have any pleasant things to say about my experiences. When I blog, I complain, and when I have conversations with people I know, I stick to pleasant things. I don't think my capacity to see the sour-side of life is anyone else's business when they have no means to get away.

The one thing about that lunch I cannot let go is this Fair delicacy: Deep Fried Coke. Simply, how can it be? Cold fusion, I get it. Massive Parallel Processing, I get it. DFC, nope. All I can envision is a lead-in to an extended burn ward stay.

Then, as my life is always a series of all-too-convenient coincidences, my brother calls me up from Minnesota while he is at the - you guessed it - Minnesota State Fair. He recounts tales of deep fried Twinkees and other terrible delights. I had to run the DFC conundrum by him; maybe he'd seen it. Surely it had to be a national rage of some sort. But he hadn't seen it. He seemed similarily perplexed and our conversation trailed off until we both figured out we should hang up, get some sleep and think about DFC another day.

I'm sure there's an explanation for it on the Internet, maybe even some YouTube highlights to transport me first-person into the DFC cult. But, I'm just going to have to suffer and think about it until I see a way out of this deep dark thinking hole I've dug myself into.

Today's Planned Revenge Against My Children
When my sweet little girl grows up, gets married and drags her husband over to Mom and Dad's for the umpteenth cup of coffee I'm going to embarrass her by recounting how nightly as little girl she would psychotically hunt down her baby brother's infant blanket and cling to it before going to sleep.