My mom and her current husband came to visit for a bit. It was nice to see them, though they didn’t enjoy the drive much. They said that some guy in a truck tailgated their SUV and followed them around (not at all unusual). Apparently the guy drove so closely that they “couldn’t even see the truck’s bumper in the rearview mirror.”
I thought about that, and you know what? I can seldom ever see the bumpers of the vehicles driving behind me. They always drive that closely. That’s just driving in Utah.
What did you do to the pure vanilla extract cap? It was absolutely fine for years, and then you changed it. Why? Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to mess with a good thing?
This large, waterslide-like contraption is no good, McCormick! This is vanilla we’re talking about, not vodka. There is no possible way to pore only a teeny bit of anything out of this bottle. And unless you’re like my husband’s brother as a teenager and actually want to down pure vanilla in an attempt to get drunk, you only want a teeny, tiny bit at a time.
And I know I’m not the only one who doesn’t care for this new cap, McCormick. Though I only live with my husband, I have a large family, and whenever one or more of them come to visit we invariably bake sweets. At some point in the process of baking cookies, chocolate lava cake, banana bread, cake, brownies, or any combination thereof, someone will grab the vanilla extract bottle and inevitably proclaim, “What’s with this vanilla cap? It sucks!” And I’ll reply, “Yes, yes it does.”
So I ask you, McCormick, we ask you, to go back to the original design of the vanilla cap. No one wants bad-tasting cookies, vanilla-reeking and stained counter tops, or to get drunk on nasty-tasting alcohol while the oven and mixer are both on. This will only result in lawsuits, McCormick, and death.
