Yesterday, after I confessed my addiction to the Swirly Goodness of Pinkberry, a commenter, John M, admitted he is tempted to mainline frozen yogurt. He’s even begs you for a place to score. Light a cig, pull up a cold folding chair, and listen to his story:
OK, now I have a Red Mango a block away from my house and a Yogalicious, Orange Cup and Pinkberry half a mile and a free trolly ride away. I’m too lazy and a creature of habit to figure this out and have tried none of them so could someone please tell me where I should be going since I apparently live in the yogurt district now?
A yogurt district. Brilliant. The thought of a yogurt district in Dallas makes my heart race. Image a city full of froyo addicts. Taking public transportation to get a fix. Pinkberry’s secret recipe sold to undercover agents in the alley behind Landry’s in the West End. Red Mango corporate executives gunned down in an Italian restaurant. (Oh wait, we don’t have any good ones. Okay, a New American restaurant with truffle fries.) Dallas, once again, will make international headlines. Al Pacino is still around. He will play John M. in a remake of Panic in Needle Park .
Do you have two or more froyo spots near your house? Are you scared? Do you let your kids go to Menchie’s alone? (Full disclosure: I relapsed last night and hit Pinkberry at 7:30 pm. There were 16 kids between 14 and 18 in that tiny store.) You think this is a joke? Then your mother never allowed you to eat baked cellulite.