Two assholes walk into a Tasti D-Lite...

Or so the story goes. On Saturday night, me and the lil' lady moseyed on over to our local Tasti D-Lite purveyor for a tub of their gelatinous chilled goo that simulates ice cream. We're about to order a substance called "Chocoleche" (?) when our place in line was hijacked by a guy and a girl -- two jackasses -- in a mild state of irritation.

"Um, this doesn't taste like vanilla," the girl said.

"It doesn't," the guy echoed.

The clerk, a beheadscarfed woman with a weary look on her face, said nothing. But the eyes -- THE EYES! -- say everything. Leave us alone. Take what you want, but please stop moving your jawbones.

The barrage of inanity continued.

"This tastes faint. I don't think you used enough formula on it," the girl said.

"Yeah -- try it for yourself. Or maybe we can taste a sample to compare against the ones we have," the guy concluded.

In rapid succession, the clerk turned to the machine, filled a small cup, took a lick, shrugged, and tossed the remainder in the garbage. "I can give you a refund." The stuff is fine. What do you want from us?

And, without fail, the guy said, "But it doesn't taste right."

Her-lo? Why did you come to Tasti D-Lite? (My goddamn fingers hurt from typing that cryptic fucking name.) This is chemistry, not a fucking butter-churn. Jagoffs.

The kicker was that the vanilla did taste weak -- Janice got some, and the jerks were right.