Wouldn't it be cool if we could bring our own wine to restaurants? It's illegal here in New Mexico, where it hasn't even been 10 years since the drive-up liquor windows closed. Battling drinking and driving (or buying booze while driving) is one thing, but think how nice it would be if you could bring a delightful bottle of wine or a six pack of special beer to a little mom ’n' pop restaurant that doesn't have a beer and wine license. When you go out to eat for your anniversary, you could bring the bottle of Dom Pérignon that you got as a wedding gift. (In other states it's legal and the restaurants simply charge you a small fee to serve it.) While we're wishing, I'd love to be able to take my unfinished bottle of wine home with me. When you go out for dinner just the two of you, sometimes a whole bottle is a lot to finish. This stupid law keeps people from ordering wine when they'd like to (costing restaurants money) and it encourages people to drink more than they'd like because they don't want to waste wine they've paid for. So let us enjoy half of the bottle, then stick a cork in it and drive safely home to finish it later.
Wow! Call ’em Whatever You Want, These Chips Blow
Same great taste, same great risk of anal leakage
Wow! chips are getting a new look and a new name but don't worry, they still cause the same crippling stomach cramps, explosive diarrhea and embarrassing anal leakage! That's right, this month the familiar bags of Wow! chips are scheduled to be replaced by Lay's Light, Doritos Light, Ruffles Light and the like. According to Frito-Lay, the name change is a marketing strategy they're putting in place because consumers don't associate the Wow! brand name with the reduced calorie benefits of the chips. Hmm, could it be that they associate the chips with anal leakage and fecal urgency?
All the News That's Fit to Eat
Parking garage pranks
Bored teens pee from the fourth floor
Damn you meddling kids!
Now That's Using Your Noodle!
Cedar Crest's Nouveau Noodles celebrates its first birthday
I've long been of the opinion that the best food comes from the unlikeliest of places—that there's a guy with a hot dog cart whose bratwurst is far superior to that found at most boutique German restaurants, that the best stuffed sopaipillas come from a little out-of-the-way storefront facing the railroad tracks (mmm ... El Modelo). So I've never been all that surprised that the finest Asian-fusion cuisine your money can buy in the Albuquerque area gets served up daily and nightly in what amounts to a converted double-wide mobile home on North 14. Not the kind of mobile home people buy today; the reclassified-for-mass-appeal "modular" or "manufactured" homes. No, Nouveau Noodles occupies the kind of trailer that dots the community of Carnuel, the kind my grandparents once owned as a second home in Truth or Consequences, the kind that came standard with faux wood paneling and that lingering factory-fresh smell.