Can I be real for a second?
Sunday donuts are pretty much what we live for all week. If you're decently behaved in Mass, donuts! Some say "church voice," my kids use their "donut voice." I wish I were kidding.
So the donut shop we went to today was voted 2015 "Best Donut" by the entire town. That gives you pause, doesn't it? We're about to hit Donut Jackpot. They even have a drive-thru! I order a dozen. Six chocolate glazed, two maple, four glazed. I also order two kolaches because if you to a place that makes kolaches and you don't buy those kolaches, you're at risk of losing your Texas residency and that's a risk I'm not willing to take.
So she's super friendly and hands me a box that is...about 12x7x4. If you like donuts, you've already realized the problem. Read no further, comrade.
Here is the problem. These donuts are being handed to me on their sides, donut bottom touching donut glaze. WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON, HERE!?! The world is tilting on it's axis, and my precious donut glaze is going to be hitting someone else's lips. SOMEONE who had to be freaking reminded to use their donut voice in Mass. They don't deserve my glaze, and no donut deserves that kind of disrespect.
And as for you, small town residents, how can I ever trust you again? If I go looking for the best taco in town, where am I going to end up?! Taco Bell?!
No comments:
Post a Comment