I do my best to eat healthy. More often than not, I succeed. Today was a total disaster. All I could manage — nutritionally speaking — was a package of Ring Dings from the vending machine at the office.

Drake’s Cakes has succeeded in distributing crack in cake form. Maybe it’s not crack. Maybe it’s just devil’s food cake and creamy filling. Who can tell the difference?

Ring Dings. Devil Dogs. Yankee Doodles. Has anyone noticed these are all the same delicious treat in three different shapes? The Devil Dog gets its name honestly. It’s made of Devil’s food cake and is shaped like a hot dog. But — and here’s the rub — there’s sweet creamy filling where you’d expect there to be something loosely resembling meat. Yankee Doodles are nothing more than devil’s food cup cakes filled with the same white creamy goodness. Ring Dings are a little more of a puzzle. They’re shaped like… hockey pucks. Sweet, cream-filled hockey pucks in a chocolaty coating.

Note: The coating isn’t chocolate. Chocolate is almost a real food. Chocolaty coating is the same color as chocolate. It’s sweet. It’s a pleasure to consume — in small quantities. But it’s definitely not chocolate.

Personally, I think Drake’s could do a better job at naming their treats. Ring Ding isn’t a name you can relate to unless you’ve spent an inappropriate amount of time peering through the glass of a vending machine at a package you’ve paid for but that hasn’t quite fallen from the spiral dispensing apparatus. In keeping with the Devil’s Food theme — not to mention their shape and color — a better name might be Devil Pucks or — if alliteration is desired — Prince (of Darkness) Pucks. Just a thought.

Tomorrow, maybe I’ll try the Pop Tarts.

So we were having sex and neither of us were enjoying ourselves. As usual. And she was calling me Karl which was disconcerting because Karl is her brother’s name. And in the dream, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and it’s an orthodox rabbi. Sitting right there at our table. At the Carnegie Deli. And he points at my plate and asks “Are you going to finish that?” I say “No. Go ahead. It’s yours.” and he flags down a waitress and sends the meal back claiming the lox was undercooked.

At that point, I awoke from the dream and discovered I was actually having sex with my girlfriend. And I was relieved for a moment. Until I realized we were at a table. At the Carnegie Deli. And sitting across from us was an orthodox rabbi who pointed at my girlfriend and asked “Are you going to finish that?” And I said “No. Go ahead. It’s yours.” And he flagged down a waitress and ordered 8 candles for what he was calling her “Labia Menorah”.

I should probably cut down on my Absinthe consumption.

Profile A (aka. “I’m-happier-than-any-healthy-human-should-be-at-this-hour”)

Employees in this camp are so freakin’ over the top happy to be alive that being in the same room with them pisses you off. You’re a caffeine junkie. At 8am every morning, you’re in a pre-fix state. You’re experiencing withdrawal symptoms. You’re groggy. Your motor control is poor. Your mental focus is impaired. You’re in no mood. Your goal is solitary–consume coffee. In this state, there’s nothing worse than a shiny, happy, overly friendly Starbucks minion saying “Good morning. What can I get for you?” in the sing-songy voice of an angel in a green apron. Need I say more?

Profile B (aka. “I’d-rather-be-anywhere-in-the-world-than-right-here”)

The other end of the spectrum, this camp consists of those who a) take your order without making eye contact, b) don’t tell you the total of your order because they’re expecting you to read the display on the register, c) pass your change back to you without acknowledging you exist and d) expect you to find the components of your order somewhere in the pile of identical bags and paper cups on the counter. These people aren’t even trying.

As a consumer (i.e. one who’s willing to spend the better part of $5 on a latte) I’d like to believe there’s a happy medium–that there are people in the world who are both reasonable in demeanor and competent in their service delivery. And also that these people are willing to work for minimum wage. Perhaps I expect too much.