The sunny Saturday was the perfect day for a little jaunt down to south Jersey.
Sign on the back of a big white Suburban:
No prob, Pops. In fact, i would never bring up the subject of The DaVinci Code at all unless I was trying to describe an outdated system of ranking IQ levels and needed an example for “moron”.
Sign on a restaurant table:
As a general rule, I eschew anything “tini” except of course a genuine classic Martini. There was a point in time before my tuna melt arrived when I thought an Almond Joy Martini might be a good idea. [Note to self: try eating your first meal before 3:30pm next time.] Exhale now – I didn’t have one. There’s nothing about this that is even remotely martini-like:
Almond Joy Martini
Malibu Rum, Creme de Cacao & Whipped Cream
Sign at Sonic:
Oh, Sonic! I didn’t know about you. I mean, I saw the ads on TV but I didn’t get that this was a drive-UP not a drive-THROUGH. I couldn’t wrap my head around either the menu offerings or the rollerskating carhops who wore change dispensers on their belts. Such a wealth of slushes and cremes and ades and whips. AND CORNDOGS. It was my first trip, so I got the classic and beloved Cherry Limeade and it was good but I’m so so sorry that I didn’t get the coconut creme pie shake.