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7:40 a.m. - 2004-07-21

TWICE THE CALORIES, TWICE THE FUN!

So Krispy Kreme has decided that they haven't been pulling their weight in the fight against skinniness in America and have introduced a glazed doughnut frozen beverage.

The scrumptious taste of a hot and fresh glazed doughnut purified into a delicious beverage ... now ready for your consumption at your nearest Krispy Kreme Doughnut Shop.

Now then ... exactly who the fuck is this for?

The fat asses who WANT to be even fatter but simply don't have the time to wolf down a dozen doughnuts?

This shit just boggles what little mind I have left.

First, I would expect most crack whores wouldn't have a problem sucking a doughnut through a straw, but the rest of us with limited oral skills may end up with an aneurysm trying to drink this drink.

Second, who the hell wants a frozen liquid doughnut?

I sheepishly have to admit ... me.

I've got to try this thing.

I don't want to.

I have to.

It's like some sort of bizarre quest.

I don't eat doughnuts much anymore. But by God ... I'll drink one for science.

I have to run in to town to return a DVD ... and I plan on popping in to Krispy Kreme and staring silently at the people behind the counter until they finally guess why I'm there.

I'll keep you informed of the experiment.


The DVD I'm returning?

That gawdawful "Starsky and Hutch" movie.

Holy hell ... I have no idea how they could have made that movie any unfunnier.

I guess they could have tortured cute kitties with a hot iron. Or maybe tip over children in wheelchairs and bending their legs backwards to where their toes touch the backs of their necks.

But other than that, there's no way this movie could suck any harder than it did.


While I was watching this horrendous excuse for a movie, there was a pounding at the front door.

Yes.

Dennis again.

He knew I was home because he could hear the movie being blasted through my home theater.

So I opened the door, ready to shoot down any sort of task he may have had for me.

"What are you doing in there?" he asked with his little sister in tow.

"I'm watching a movie," I said dryly.

"What movie?" he asked.

"Starsky and Hutch," I answered.

"I haven't seen that one," he said.

(Silence)

"What do you want, Dennis?" I asked.

"Do you want to buy some lemonade?" he asked back.

I may as well state it now ... I don't care for lemonade. I'll drink it if I have to. But I'd rather not have to. Kind of like gopher urine. Hold a gun to my head and I'll take a swig.

"How about I just give you some money and you don't give me any lemonade?" I asked.

"You HAVE to have lemonade if you pay for it," he insisted.

"Fine. How much is it?" I asked.

"25 cents a cup," he answered.

At least the kid had a clue as to how much to charge.

I gave him a dollar, told him to keep the change and get me my lemonade.

He walked five houses down to the middle of the street, poured half a styrofoam cup full of pink lemonade and brought it back to me.

"How're sales?" I asked, pouring the lemonade down my throat in a single gulp.

"You're the only one who's bought any," he admitted.

"Well, good luck to you, Dennis," I said, closing the door.

He pushed the door back open.

"Can you help me mow some more yards later?" he asked.

"Not today, Dennis," I said, forcefully shutting the door on him.

Jesus.

I have GOT to get a daytime job.

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