So, as you know, America is a country that doesn't know the meaning of the word "quarkzenflufferburppit." To be fair, there aren't many countries that do know that word because I just made it up. Canada might claim to know it, but they're notorious fibbers. That's why Keanu Reeves is listed on IMDb under "actor."
But one word that America does know the meaning of is "innovation." We're constantly creating better, faster and easier ways to do things. It's in our DNA along with wrestling and a soft spot for Dom DeLuise. These innovators go by many names - Genius, Savior, Ken Bone - but I have my own special moniker for them: busybodies. It's taken most of my adult life to discover what works best for me and I'm in no hurry to switch it up.
Which brings me to bag milk.
Recently, a convenience store chain moved into the Twin Ports featuring "innovations" to the gas station business model. I won't name this company except to say it's a FAST JOURNEY (wink, wink) to find somewhere else to purchase your avocados. One of their alleged improvements is providing an alternative way to package milk. They put it in a bag.
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Now, normal people enjoy their milk in plastic jugs the size of North Dakota. The advantages are endless. You can tote it with two fingers when going from the Kwik Tri - uhhhh, I mean THAT PLACE - to the car, then home. You can twist off the top and easily gulp down a couple of swigs after nightly Cookie Time. And when it's gone, there are a variety of new uses it for the empty jug, including protective headgear during seagull season. This is the way God intended for milk to be contained.
But those brainiacs at Kwik Tri - uhhh, I mean KWIK TRIP - started putting milk in plastic bags and it's pretty much been a disastrous hellscape ever since. Transporting it anywhere is like clutching a slippery tube of clammy eels. To pour it takes a series of precise maneuvers worthy of a diamond cutter and even then, you end up drenching the cat. And when the milk is gone, you must cut and rinse and recycle the old one, then plop your new bag into the specially designed pitcher that's required just for the privilege of pouring. Finally, you have to surgically cut a corner slit in this delightful sack of moo juice, which by now is room temperature and has to be re-refrigerated for 24 hours.
So let's review: not convenient. Unable to pour. A nightmare to replace. I have only one thing to say about bag milk ...
Quarkzenflufferburppit.
Brian is not really that set in his ways. Last week, he even tried green M&M’s for the first time. Not a fan.
