I’m sitting here at Midas waiting for my brakes to be installed, and I’m saddened by the fact that I drank my last Mello Yello the other night.
One thing I love doing when traveling to different places is checking out the local beverages. When I went to Tennessee, I knew there were some drinks I definitely wanted to look for, like Mello Yello and anything I have not tried.
On the drive out to Texas, we stopped at a gas station to fill up, and, while perusing the many choices of juices and sodas, I found one I had to buy:
In case you can’t read it, that, ladies and gentlemen, is a Strawberry Manilow. Honestly, when you see a juice called that, how could you pass it up? Especially when it’s put out by Jones fucking Soda (who, by the way, makes the Best Cream Soda Ever).
Of course, once Zig and David saw the drink I had purchased, they had their fun.
“You like your lips around that Strawberry Manilow?”
“You gonna swallow all that Manilow has to offer?”
“So tell us, Stewie, how does Manilow taste? Salty? Sweet?”
It was actually a little too sweet, but filling and an overall a pleasant experience (not unlike Mandy, who gave and gave without taking).
Now, getting all the way back to the Mello Yello, one thing I regret is I neglected to buy more than one 12 pack of Mello Yello while I was down there. For those who don’t know, Mello Yello was Coke’s attempt to compete with Mountain Dew, but it never fully took off — except in the Southern regions. Which kind of sucks, too. While I prefer the Dew over Mello Yello (that’s right, kid), I still wish I had the option to mix it up some. Especially since I found out Mello Yello had a cherry flavor that I never (and probably will never) got a chance to try.
Such is life. I guess it will be one of those things that Mello Yello will taste that much better when I am given the opportunity to have it. (On a complete side note, I seriously miss the fact that every restaurant in Tennessee seemingly has sweet tea. Not so much in Maryland. I drank the shit out of sweet tea while I was down there, and my kidneys hated me for it.)
One last thing, one place I have to have to have to go next time I’m in Tennessee is Bar-B-Cutie. I’m a sucker for advertising, and I loved hers.
I actually went into the restaurant to buy a coffee mug, but they only sold shirts. And, much to my dismay, they didn’t have any fat boy sizes in stock.
There’s always next time, though.