Servings

I purchased a Diet Coke from the BP today and I was looking at the label to see how much sodium it had in it. I didn’t know exactly what I would do with that nutrient information — maybe avoid crackers and oceans for the rest of the day if it had 94 or more percent of my daily FDA-approved amount of sodium, but probably just tell someone about it like, “Hey dude, dude. Did you, I know this is stupid or whatever, but did you know Diet Coke has like, 94 percent of your FDA-approved amount of sodium for one day. Yeah, one day. Wild, right? Yeah.” — Anyway, it was something like 1 percent, which I felt pretty good about, especially since Diet Coke then contains only 1 percent more sodium than its semi-generic competitor, Diet Rite which, if you’re a numerical analyst like myself, you can calculate at 0 percent. Diet Rite also tastes like slightly diluted upholstery cleaner spiked with formaldehyde. Needless to say, I was pleased with myself for isolating the drink’s sole natural and taste-sustaining element.

But, despite my patient mathematical work, this figure of 1 percent was in goddamnit shitass error. No, it didn’t have that 1 percent daily value of sodium vital to my well-being; it had 2.5 percent. Why? Because, being a numerical analyst, I can add up the bullshit. Here’s how: according to the FDA, I’ve got 2.5 servings of brand-name refreshment bundled up in my bottle of Diet Coke. (Is liquid bundle-able? Anyway,) I knew those 8-ounce baby cans of pop that girls like would amount to no good. “Not a serving!” I have often insisted without being asked. “Not a serving and you’re a whore!” But in my bottle, MY bottle, there were reportedly 2.5 of those whore-sized servings. “Hey, just doing the math for you, Perry. You’re welllcccome.” No, fuck you, Team FDA Coca-Cola. Look, I want to drink my pop, not practice for an upcoming wine tasting event. I’ve got pop to drink and things to do. The only reason I didn’t get the 44-once-big-gulp-bucket-o-kidney-stones size was because I didn’t feel like taking the chance of misapplying the lid and having that shit spill all over the genital area of my khaki pants. I know, I know, what better way to show a potential employer what a sloppy-ass weirdo you are. “Sir, sir, there’s no need to move your coffee to the window sill. Please, I do have some self-contr…..Give Me That! Give-ME-That! LIQUID! YUMYUMGUYMBLBLBBLUM!!”  (that was me drinking the coffee)

Speaking of, have you ever gone out to breakfast at a diner and switched it up with some orange juice? Nice try, they’ll bring you a SIX OUNCE glass, and you can bet your sack there’s no refills. “What? Are you giving me this to sip on while I wait in the bread line? Waaaaaait, has the From-Concentrate Union gone on strike? I knew it.”

Alright, I love large soda portions, so gas stations listen up: how about we get our nuts in a row and take it to the next fucking level. You’re been a front-runner in the large portion circuit for years, and I’ve seen a couple 64-oncers out there. But someone with a double-stock pair needs to take the lead and Hardee’s-ize the fountain drink bar of their store. But you’ll need a gimmick to get it off the ground. Maybe something like: the most pop you can fit in your trousers for $5. I don’t know why the target audience would be British, but, alright, let’s make it 8 pounds. (“I don’t know if that’s the proper conversion rate, let me look it up…ooo, pretty close, pretty close. Smartass.”)

Okay, this post kind of trailed off, so how about we wrap it up with the mega-zinger Larry the Cable Guy just un-fucking-leashed on the Tonight Show. Here we go: “Well, over the weekend, Jay, I went into one of them Bed, Bath, & Beyonds,” he told the late night host, the audience already snickering with delight. “I liked the place alright, sure, but I thought of something I’d like a little bit better — Bed, Beer, & a Blonde!”  

What?! Larry! OUTRAGEOUS!!!