I hate the fridge pack.
Seriously. That long skinny thing that they sell twelve cans of coke in now. I hate it. It’s a pain to carry, as the weight is not well distributed. It was introduced some years ago, ostenibly to be easier to go in the fridge. It isn’t. My fridge has plenty of space, but since things like old bottles of salad dressing tend to congregate in the back, wedging that pesky fridge pack in requires wiggling, and when you are wiggling a large rectangle full of metal and liquid in an enclosed space, “wiggling” becomes “wildly whanging and cursing and knocking over bottles of salad dressing.” And I CANNOT get the end open in the correct fashion to save my life.
Now, none of this would bother me IF they still offered the traditional sized container. Then I could get the size I like, the size I grew up with, and I would begrudge no one their fridgepack. But no, they phased out everything in favor of the oh-so-convenient fridgepack. Bastards.
Also, while I’m complaining, are there no Red Vines in the South? I mean, I am used to Red Vines as one of the dietary staples of the candy aisle. I LIKE Red Vines. Nobody has ’em. Even the office supply stores that usually have a Mass Candy Section for the bribing of employees which, in other states, carry the Mondo Mega Red Vine Monolith, have neither hide nor hair of a Red Vine.
Instead, they have Twizzler, which is basically strawberry flavored wax. The two are not remotely similiar. Friends! Southern friends! Are there Red Vines ANYWHERE? I’ve got a year worth of jonesing on.
And that concludes this week’s quota of complaining about stuff.