I like it. I have no idea what the hell it is, but I like it.
These were the thoughts going through my head a couple of Sundays ago while at my local Garden Centre. Not the one where they all greet me by name and ask how my fish are doing. The other one … where they just kind of ignore me.
I am partial to this store because although they ignore me, sometimes it’s nice to be ignored. And besides, they have really nice stuff at this garden centre. Plaid rain boots, exotic plants, and once for some unknown reason they gave away a box of crackers with every purchase. It’s hard not to love a store that gives you a box of crackers.
So as I’m going through all the displays I spot this thingamabob. I loved it immediately even though I had no idea what it was. Strangely, that doesn’t often deter me from buying something. My first assumption was some sort of planter pot.
I wandered around a little bit more and pondered things like “I wonder how heavy that $200 hanging basket is? I wonder if anyone buys those hanging baskets at full price? I wonder if the people working here ever faint from the heat and then get to go home early and eat ice cream?”
Ice CREAM! That was it. The thing I saw earlier was obviously for sundaes. But why would they have sundae serving dishes in a garden centre. No. It didn’t make any sense.
Out of curiosity I went back to the mystery thingamabob and flipped it over to see the price. And right there, stuck to the bottom was the price alongside an explanation of what this thing was.
Needless to say it wasn’t a sundae serving cup. ‘Cause as I mentioned before, that would be silly in a garden centre. Wouldn’t make any sense whatsoever. Sometimes I get the craziest ideas in my head. I should really start taking pills for it.
No, the cup (which makes infinitely more sense ) was ….
… a french fry cup. With an accompanying ketchup dipping bowl.
I’ve never fallen so hard or so quickly for anything in my life.* I have what can only be described as a raging addiction to french fries. I’ve tried to cut down, tried to substitute them with some other addiction, but I’m just too weak.
I realize many of you won’t understand our special relationship, but the french fry cup and I plan to live happily ever after. Til meth do us part.
*(excluding the time Chris Isaak sat beside me at a dinner party, played the guitar and sang “Wicked Game“)
UPDATE As of this very minute, you can find these Maxwell Williams french fry cups here at Amazon. Thanks Jenn and Zina!