Dunkin Donuts Night

Yesterday I learned that Dunkin Donuts intends to market and sell gluten free donuts.  This is hard to imagine given the fact that I view DD glazed donuts and chocolate munchkins as a sugar and carb-coated version of crack cocaine. Consciously I KNOW I shouldn’t go there but every so often one gives in to the intense cravings for the sweet junkie’s crystalline sugar rush. Unfortunately, like crack, the “high” doesn’t last that long and the retched downward spiral afterwards is a complete bummer. I know I’m not alone in this often secretive and unhealthy every-so-often behavior. Adolf Hitler, for example, had himself injected daily with “Vita-Multin”, his personal physician’s proprietary blend of vitamins, bull testicle extract and crystal meth. That’s right…the Fuhrer apparently needed something “extra” to help him stay up late and figure out how to kill all the Jews.

In a slightly different vein (get it?) the gf and I needed to stay up last night after a really lousy sushi dinner at Sushi Mio in Sandy Springs. I wont give you the whole hyper-critical CaptCliff restaurant review, but I will say this:  It’s not a good sign when you enter a sushi bar and there’s only one other Caucasian couple there and they both look between comatose and dead, slumped over their cold miso soup and lukewarm ginger salads. Also, once I nudged the deceased diner’s head over to the side, the ginger dressing appeared watery and store bought, another rather bad omen.

Anyway, after we ate and repeatedly sent back our tempura vegetables for being somewhere between E-coli ridden raw and undercooked, we graciously paid, bowed with mock appreciation and swiped the entire porcelain bowl of mints at the front counter in revenge. I would have taken the reproduction antique oriental wood bench in the entry foyer as well but there were too many boisterous suburban Jews right outside kibbitzing with one another after having an excellent albeit predictable meal at the Brickery next door. How would I have explained the intricately carved dark wood stained waiting bench under my arm? “Hey, look it’s Martin and Cindy, how’s it going?? Oh yeah, right…I, uh brought my own seating to dinner. Yes, I always do that…. bad arthritis you know. It’s hereditary on my mother’s side…Shabbat Shalom y’all, say hi to everybody. Nitey Nite! Buh bye!”
So we had almost a full hour left before the movie started at 10:00 PM at Lefont Cinema, which means we had about a 5% chance of actually going due to elder fatigue, exhaustion, and the wear and tear of living in the affluent suburbs. We needed a wake-up “hit” of something and “da kine” (as they say in Hawaii) would have had the opposite effect on my delicate Baby Boomer physiology. Suddenly I remembered the Dunkin Donuts news story in the paper. What if,  just what if… they really DO now have amazingly tasty gluten-free chocolate donut holes that would be a “dieter’s dream” come true not to mention a godsend to celiac patients and all the other hypochondriacs who think they have celiac disease? We drove over to the Roswell Road location and entered the drive-in line. Random question: Why is the drive-in lanes at my Dunkin Donuts this dark, cramped, “back of the shack” alley way that make you feel like you are a Vicodin addict in the shitty parts of Florida buying painkillers or sex toys in brown paper bags?  In contrast, the triple wide drive-in lanes at McDonalds across the street are lit up like a drag racing venue with ballpark floodlights and circus clowns.  Maybe this was just my overly vivid imagination and my mixed feelings of guilt and desire talking. It turns out the Indian guy at DD had never heard of the so-called incredibly delicious gluten-free donuts and to make matters worse they were, “all out of chocolate donut holes”.  They could have told me a Delta jumbo jet had just hit the King and Queen buildings in Sandy Springs. I felt that taken aback and crest fallen. However, because psychological “resilience” is supposed to be one of my professional specialties, I used a mindful meditation technique and quantum coping (radical acceptance) to turn my deep disappointment and grief into an order of one dozen red velvet munchkins and two large coffees with French vanilla and a half-kilo of Splenda with cream. Of course we felt so “wired” afterwards there was no way we could sit quietly in any theater seat until well after midnite. At that point going home and popping  Ambien and a bottle of Melatonin from Whole Foods seemed the best possible cinematic ending.

PS  After waking up the next day with a sugar migraine and red velvet crumbs stuck to my hairy back and chest, I did manage to go to the movie, Silver Linings Playbook. A very kooky bipolar love story and I loved it. I highly recommend it to any quasi-bipolar person such as myself, along with the occasional glazed donut and mood stabilizer as needed.


About captaincliff

Psychologist by day, insomniac Pirate blogger by night, this Child of God likes to share sarcastic social commentary as well as topsy-turvy observations about life, love and the pursuit of zaniness, a functional form of insanity in an increasingly insane world
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