If you’ve seen it mentioned here before that I keep a running list of people/companies/et al to take down on my rise to total world domination, do not be fooled into thinking that this is merely some run-of-the-mill to-do list chicken-scratched on the back of a paper napkin. I take that shiz dead seriously, as per below:
This past week has seen greeeat success for me and my conquests… not one but TWO of my gravest enemies faced defeat: the Love Cafe in DC, and Hostess products.
The Love Cafe
is was a terrible coffee shop with terrible cupcakes and terrible service with a TERRIBLE name that I knew had to be destroyed when they served me a terribly watered-down, tasteless iced coffee last summer. Seriously, it was like they just took the dregs from the iced coffee vat circa 1999 and added some room-temperature sewer water. Just dreadful. When I complained, they pulled a Katy and basically said “sorry we’re not sorry.” WTF times 10,000,000!
It was only a matter of time before the Love Cafe brought about their own demise. Wa wa wee wah!
Even more exciting than the closure of the Love Cafe, however, is a story you may have seen on the front page of your business section this week. Hostess, the makers of my personal form of kryptonite, have filed for Chapter 11. Sup now ding dongs?!?!
I’ll never forget the day in Mrs. Margolies’s kindergarten class when – after having to talk to Ralph on the big white phone for the fourth birthday in a row – it finally came to light that my G.I. system and Hostess products were never going to get along. Do you know what it’s like to have gone through life not knowing what a twinkie tastes like? Because I do.
Now, the analysts are all claiming that just because the evil scientists behind the desserts that can last on an Amjos rack for my entire lifetime without going bad have run out of money does not mean that Hostess will no longer fuel the childhood obesity epidemic in America. But I’ve got my fingers crossed. Say it with me people: Down with Ho Hos!!