I think I may have, at long last, finally had enough Coca-Cola. Or Coke Zero. Or Diet Coke. Or any of the other hundreds of other flavors Coke is pumping out. I know I waxed rhapsodic the other day about the coolest thing ever.

That, however, was before I went to see the World of [...]]]> by Richard

I think I may have, at long last, finally had enough Coca-Cola. Or Coke Zero. Or Diet Coke. Or any of the other hundreds of other flavors Coke is pumping out. I know I waxed rhapsodic the other day about the coolest thing ever.

That, however, was before I went to see the World of Coca-Cola in downtown Atlanta with Zippy the Monkey Boy. On an off day for his spring break trip (between Six Flags Over Georgia and the Georgia Aquarium) we decided to hit the Coke museum and drink shop.

It was a bit cute for a while, but the whole presentation got on my nerve after a while when the company shills in the various movies they kept trotting out continued to talk about how Coke was such a wonderful product that it brought people together. It was far too 1970s hippy for me. Not only that, but it completely glossed over the fact that Coke is there to make a buck, not to promote world peace. Or maybe it’s just that I’m a cynic about these things. Nah, couldn’t be.

Once we made our precarious way through all the propaganda we were able to get to the real high spot of the tour. We finally were let loose in the sample room. The place with filled with kiosks advertising and dripping with drinks from North America, Africa, Asia and Latin America. Zippy the Monkey Boy and I went, well, just a little crazy. Only a little bit, mind you.

We tried out drink after drink featuring some combinations that I don’t think I’ve ever even considered, much less thought to drink. The pineapple soda from Africa was a bit. . . odd. There was a cherry soda from Mozambique that tasted like cough medicine that had sat out on a back porch in the desert for far too long.

There were a lot of drinks that I really enjoyed, but I wasn’t able to drink too much of them. I kept getting too full. I tried to discretely burp. Just a little. But after I had the entire room turning to stare in my direction for the third time, I figured it was time to stop. Well, that and the fact that I was so full I could barely slosh my way out. Receiving as I went my complimentary bottle of, ugh, Coke.

Zippy the Monkey Boy, being younger and having that standard-issue for teenagers hollow leg, had no problem drinking all those cokes. He was bouncing around the gift store at the end like a gazelle that’s just discovered caffeine in the seconds before a lion attack. He loved all that stuff. I did, unfortunately for him, make him narrow it down to a single item. He chose a really amazing bottle opener. All you’ve got to do is press this cylinder down on the bottle cap, push and then pull. Viola! You’ve got an open bottle.

Now he’s after me to open my free bottle of Coke. But I’m not sure I can face that just now. He might have to wait just a bit — urp — longer.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, ya’ll.

Related posts

• These Are Not The Droids You’re Looking For (1)
• Spring Break Road Trip (0)
• I Am Iron Man, Too (0)
• Dude, Where’s My Eggo? (0)
• Dude Review: Six Flags Over Georgia (0)

Growing up, I’d often heard the phrase “Beware the Ides of March.” What can I say? My house was full of literature geeks. Which means I probably come by it naturally. Well, the geek part at least.

Which doesn’t mean I actually inherited any sort of brains at all, dudes. For years I thought it [...]]]> by Richard

Growing up, I’d often heard the phrase “Beware the Ides of March.” What can I say? My house was full of literature geeks. Which means I probably come by it naturally. Well, the geek part at least.

Which doesn’t mean I actually inherited any sort of brains at all, dudes. For years I thought it was “Beware the eyes of March” and I kept dreading the end of February because I assumed there’d be some horrible eye glaring out at me from the calendar. Or, even worse, there’d be a glowing set of red eyes following me around in the dark. Intelligence? No. Horribly clichéd imagination? Oh my, yes.

Anyway, I’d just sort of assumed the whole Ides of March thing was supposed to make you wary that the middle of March was some sort of existential trap for the unwary who didn’t know what Ides were. Of course, the fact that I didn’t know what Ides really were only served to make it more important.

When I finally swallowed my pre-teen pride, caved and asked what the heck Ides were, I was more than a bit disappointed. Turns out it’s just the name for March 15 on the Roman calendar. And the only reason we know what it is today is that it’s supposedly the day that Caesar was knifed to death on the floor of the Roman senate and, of course, Shakeaspere mentioned it in the play.

All of which I mention because today is. . . The Ides of March. Da, da, daaaaaaaaa.

Beware.* Be very ware.

*What? I can’t have an off day every now and then?

Related posts

• Freaky Friday: Who’s That Girl? (0)
• Freaky Friday: It’s All About The Chocolate, Baby (0)
• Dog Training (0)
• Trade Off (0)
• On The Advisability Of Tooting Horns, Yours And Others (0)

George of the Jungle was a little steamed yesterday. Well, I say a little, but I guess I really mean that steam was coming out his ears and he was grinding his teeth together so hard that we were using him to crack a few particularly stubborn walnuts. See, yesterday was the fifth time [...]]]> by Richard

George of the Jungle was a little steamed yesterday. Well, I say a little, but I guess I really mean that steam was coming out his ears and he was grinding his teeth together so hard that we were using him to crack a few particularly stubborn walnuts. See, yesterday was the fifth time he’s had to take the Scholastic Aptitude Test, or SAT.

You know, now that I think about it, he might — just might — have a point. All right, he’s got a point. I think we might have maybe pushed this whole SAT thing a bit too much.

Really, though, it just sort of sneaked up on us.

The first time he took the SAT was in 7th grade as part of the Duke University Talent Identification Program. Basically he had to take it to see if he could get into the program. He did and he did and he enjoyed a lot of the weekend seminars they run for relatively book-smart kids.

It was at the end of his tenth-grade year that things started to get a bit out of hand. His mom and I decided he should take the SAT in 10th grade to see where he stood. He took it and did pretty well, especially for a 10th grader. Then he took it again during the fall of last year. Again, his scores increased pretty significantly. The thing is that he has some out-of-state schools on his possible list and those require a certain score level if he (that is, us) wants to have a small enough tuition for us to be able to afford to send him out of state.

So we sent him to an SAT prep course, during which he had to take a warm-up SAT. That was number four. Finally, hopefully, he sat down yesterday for his fifth crack at this thing. If all goes according to plan, this will be the last one because he’ll finally achieve what he needs in order to open up his options. We’ll see.

All I know is that before I left for my spring break road trip with Zippy the Monkey Boy, George of the Jungle was wandering around the house mumbling something about sine is to cosine as an eviscerated corpse is to a bloody butcher knife. Not that I’m worried or anything, but I did manage to hide most of the sharper kitchen implements before I went away.

Helping to create a future isn’t as easy as it sounds.

Related posts

• Dog Training (0)
• Waaazzzzzuuuuuppp? (0)
• Spring Break Road Trip (0)
• The Big Day Is Here (0)
• No Bon-Bons For You (0)