Sunday, September 8, 2013
Ruffles have ridges
Remember the Ruffles commercial? "Ruffles have ridges?" Why call them Ruffles? That sounds like something you would call a Tutu, NOT a potato chip. If it has ridges, just call it Ridges potato chips. Not Ruffles, that's just stupid. Now speaking of Ruffles, I know we all have our vices, and mine could easily be (and has in the past been) worse. But I will admit to you with my head hung in shame, that mine is Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips. Something ugly happens when I pull a bag of those babies open. It's not pretty. I start out nicely and with the best of intentions of course . A single cheesy chip, delicately placed into my salivating mouth. I savor the cheesy-sour-cream flavor and gently bite down, one slow thoughtful crunch followed by another, this time a little quicker, and another, and another, each time a little faster than the last. I stick my hand into the bag and pull out the second chip and place it into my mouth and immediately grab two more. It's about this moment when I become a wild rabid beast. I probably look like one of those lions on a National Geographic special that hasn't eaten anything for a week and jumps on some poor unsuspecting Water Buffalo that happens to be minding its own business eating prairie grass and gets turned into flying pieces of flesh....Probably. OK, more than likely. I don't know what it is. Maybe it' the crunch, maybe the cheesiness, maybe the sour cream. I don't know. I don't care. It's just...amazing. I never buy a big bag, only the single serving size. Which really isn't a single serving if you look at the nutritional information on the back. Talk about depressing. They kinda ruin the whole moment by putting the facts right there on the back of the bag...It's almost as bad as a menu at a restaurant that has the caloric value RIGHT next to the description of the dish. I think it would be classier to have that on the receipt. You don't want to know when you order, right? Let me know the damage AFTER it's been done. The price and the calories all at once. Good grief Charlie Brown. So if you happen to see me with a glazed look in my eyes and a strange orange powder around my mouth and on my fingers and a crumpled bag of Ruffles at my feet, please... look the other way. Just. Look. Away.