"Hey," I said when I checked in with my husband this morning, "I just want you to know, my exploration of generic alternatives isn't exclusive to the stuff you like."
[Background: My husband loves Eggo waffles. I think it's silly that they cost a dollar more than generic frozen waffles. He insists that even if they are 25% more expensive, they are 90% tastier, so they are worth it. That might be true, but I also think he's got a canyon-deep brand loyalty to Eggo, and that the generic waffles are probably pretty close. I would know more about that, though, if I ate as many waffles as he did. So, I've started buying Eggo again.]
"Oh yeah?" he answered. "How so?"
"I'm trying generic dark roast K-cups." I hit my blinker to turn left onto the entrance ramp to the Baltimore beltway.*
"How are they?"
"They're OK," I squinted away some of the sun glare. "Still not as good as Starbucks French Roast, but I need to do a cost-comparison. If they are half the cost, then they're worth it."
"I don't agree. I think they are worth all of the money. In fact, I think you should buy the most expensive coffee."
[Side note: I mainline dark, robust coffee. My husband is afraid of me if I haven't drunk a cup before we interact. I think I am perfectly sunshiney and nice. And not at all yelly.]
"Um, I think the most expensive coffee is actually processed in the colon of a civet. It's like $160 per pound."
"That. That's what you should get."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they don't make a K-cup version of that."
*I should not have been talking on the phone. I KNOW, okay?
[Background: My husband loves Eggo waffles. I think it's silly that they cost a dollar more than generic frozen waffles. He insists that even if they are 25% more expensive, they are 90% tastier, so they are worth it. That might be true, but I also think he's got a canyon-deep brand loyalty to Eggo, and that the generic waffles are probably pretty close. I would know more about that, though, if I ate as many waffles as he did. So, I've started buying Eggo again.]
"Oh yeah?" he answered. "How so?"
"I'm trying generic dark roast K-cups." I hit my blinker to turn left onto the entrance ramp to the Baltimore beltway.*
"How are they?"
"They're OK," I squinted away some of the sun glare. "Still not as good as Starbucks French Roast, but I need to do a cost-comparison. If they are half the cost, then they're worth it."
"I don't agree. I think they are worth all of the money. In fact, I think you should buy the most expensive coffee."
[Side note: I mainline dark, robust coffee. My husband is afraid of me if I haven't drunk a cup before we interact. I think I am perfectly sunshiney and nice. And not at all yelly.]
"Um, I think the most expensive coffee is actually processed in the colon of a civet. It's like $160 per pound."
"That. That's what you should get."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure they don't make a K-cup version of that."
*I should not have been talking on the phone. I KNOW, okay?
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