So. I had an embarrassing moment the other day. I was lunching at Whole Foods, a dangerous proposition in itself. Sometimes, the buffet is a psychedelic experience. Not that I’ve ever had one. The menu there can be so delish you swoon. Then, there are days when you pay $38.85 for lunch and it tastes like cardboard lightly seasoned with powdered plaster of Paris and cat litter.
Darn hippies, infiltrating the food industry.
Anywho. So. To wash down this shoe leather posing as chicken enchilada, I purchased a quart of orange juice and sat outside to enjoy the clouds. Problem arises. I used to refer to myself as a strapping Polish sun god, powerful and laughing at danger. In a couple of days, I’m turning 75. You know. Approaching middle age? Short of using a chainsaw, I can’t twist off the OJ cap. I hate to confess this, but I now carry a pair of large channel locks but they’re in the car, yards and yards away. A fetching, sweet, courteous and helpful Whole Foods young lady passes. She’s easily half my size at about 100 pounds. I asked her if she could go into the store and go to produce and ask Whole Foods’ Tolaf, who carries a sword and shield around and weighs north of 300, if he could take my orange juice to the vise in the back and open the stubborn container.
Sweet as pie, the checker-ette takes the OJ and says, “Here, sir. Let me give that a try!” With a simple twist, the diminutive food engineer opens the bottle.
“There you go!” she says. Reading the astonishment and embarrassment on my face, she followed up with a helpful, “Gosh! You did all the work!!”
Which is why I’m always going back to Whole Foods, except on Dog Chew Toy Chicken Enchilada Night.
I used to be able to choke a battalion of Marines, with one hand. My grip strength lately seems to be fading south a smidge, hence, I now wear a tool belt everywhere housing a variety of pliers, from industrial channel locks you use to separate aircraft carrier anchor links to ant eye tweezers. One just never knows. But it seems lately I can’t open a plastic Coke bottle without a monkey wrench. Confident this has nothing to do with me, I looked up this malady on the internet. Thank goodness gee-whiz, it WASN’T me. It was some other guy making alleged easy-to-twist bottles three time zones away.
Turns out there’s all sorts of articles about BSM’s (Big Strong Men) filing workman’s comp cases after hurting themselves trying to open anything from a Dr. Pepper twist-off to a 512-ounce mayonnaise bottle.
On Reddit, one oppressed chap wrote: “Sorry, boss. I’m running 20 minutes behind opening another (F-bomb) Gatorade bottle.” I do have some questions about this particular employee, like, did he post this five minutes after clocking in that morning, and, if so, why had he already consumed Gatorades in the plural? Must have been in one of those federal employee unions with all the benefits.
Hmph. Maybe he worked in Hell and it was like, hot, all the time. The guy confessed: “At least two guys actually sprained their hands! I think one was actually reported as a workplace injury, because he really did have to see a doctor about it, and lost some hours while it was hurting. We all agreed it didn’t used to be this way!”
I know. I know. Some of you fellows are nodding your heads, pursing your lips. “Yeah. The guys must have worked at United Amalgamated Sissy Diaper Factory.” Actually, I’d KILL for a 100% cotton baseball cap with that logo. Great way to meet Democratic girls with bendable scruples.
One link — I won’t use the name because me and the paper don’t want to get sued — suggested using, “… a sharp knife.” If memory serves, the author is listed as, “9 Fingers Bob.” Maybe on the next World’s Strongest Man competition, they should include Fruit Punch Gatorade Bottle Opening Competition. Alas, while I think I might have a shot at carrying the two double-door Maytags up 228 flights of stairs, I’d have to just hold one hand in their air as a salute to the fans, lower my head in shame and skip this particular test of strength.
A Reddit complainer confessed he beat his Gatorade bottle against a kitchen countertop for a half-hour before giving up. And there are confessions of grown men smashing it against walls, a vise and a former spouse and the screw cap still wouldn’t break free. Another took a photo of his bleeding World War I palm injury of how the serrated G-lid nearly tore his hand clean off. Yick.
Some shill for Gatorade had a kissy-butt defense for how hard it is to open a Gatorade. First off, to justify the wretched lie, Chef’s Resource simply claims, “No. Gatorade bottles are NOT hard to open.” If you have a tire jack and a 4,200-pound wife named Hilda who has foot-long armpit hair who is the 9-times World’s Strongest Woman. The website sort of hints that if you soak the bottle in boiling water for a few hours, that’ll loosen the lid.
And make your ice-cold Gatorade boiling hot.
I Love-Love-Love their first instruction: “No. 1 — Locate the Gatorade bottle cap: The cap of a Gatorade thirst quencher bottle can be found on the top. It has a secure seal to keep the drink fresh and prevent leakage.” First? “The cap of a Gatorade thirst quencher bottle can be found on the top?” Duh? And, Well, duh? I’m surprised they didn’t happily suggest that the orange bottle caps could be safely washed and rinsed and used for earrings.
Or, as a minimalist Mormon bikini top.
(RE: THE ABOVE — You could never get it off …)
Santa Clarita’s John Boston is the most prolific humorist/satirist in world history. Visit his bookstore online at johnlovesamerica.com/bookstore.
