My roommate has many tremendous qualities, but none may be more entertaining than watching the advertising world work its magic on him.  If we’re watching TV and a commercial for any food product comes on, all I have to do is look in his direction and wait for him to say, “Hmm, I could really go for [insert product name] right now…”

And he’s completely serious every time.  On New Year’s Eve probably 10 years ago, we were hanging out at his then-place and a Taco Bell ad gloriously splashed across the screen.  Being a holiday, Taco Bell was closed, and I told him that, but he was so insistent on taking care of that craving that we went anyway on a journey that ended in despair.

The target the other night was ice cream.  It was after 11 p.m., and he asked if there were any ice cream places that would still be open.  The answer, as it has been probably 10 times in the past five years I’ve been asked this question late at night, was no.  But there is a 24-hour grocery store nearby.

We went.  And found this:

Don’t get distracted by the fact that there’s a Samoas flavor of ice cream.  Focus on the portions within these containers.  They both claim to have 1.5 quarts, but translate that amount differently when it comes to liters: 1.41 for Breyers and 1.42 for Turkey Hill.

Naturally, at 11:30 on a Thursday night, this is what became important about this trip for me.  So what’s the deal?  Well, the people at the Breyer’s company are apparently not interested in rounding up:

You could make an argument that they’re trying to not over-promise what’s inside that seemingly ever-shrinking container.  But come on, when you’re giving me a product that’s going to inflate my waistline I absolutely have no problem with you swelling 1.4195 up to 1.42.  It’s okay.

Turkey Hill gets it.  That’s why I bought 1.42 liters of their ice cream.  And another 1.42 liters for good measure.

I thoroughly enjoy when companies give serious replies to my ridiculous questions.

In this case, the problem is with pasta, which happens to be a big part of my life.  I tend to buy different brands from time to time, though my favorite is San Giorgio.  At some point I ended up with both a box of their shells and a box of Harris Teeter brand shells.

Notice the problem?  Same pasta, allegedly different sizes.  I know that most people would just eat the pasta and go on with their lives.  A few would shrug their shoulders at the difference, eat the pasta and then go on with their lives.  Obviously my brain is not wired like those people.

I emailed the customer service people at each company, getting a prompt reply from Harris Teeter, and hearing back from San Giorgio a few weeks later.  Both of their explanations were illuminating, but in different ways.

Harris Teeter said there is no standard on shape or size among the manufacturers, and that pasta that looks the same can be given different names.

“These particular pasta shells, shape #011, are referred to as ‘Shells,’ ‘Medium Shells,’ ‘Large Shells,’ ‘Sea Shells’ depending on what branded or private-label it is being packaged into,” they said.

With San Giorgio, it was more like the situation you might see at a movie theater when you order popcorn or soda.  You know, the way you order a large and then find yourself aghast and asking, “THAT’S a large?!  What’s that bigger one then?”  The kid behind the counter points to a truly epic cup and tells you it’s a “jumbo.”

That’s how San Giorgio sells shells (not sure if any seashores are involved).

“San Giorgio shells come in 3 different sizes,” they said.  “Small, Large and Jumbo.  In a case like this the large and medium would be the same.”

Now you know the pasta aisle is the Wild West of the grocery store, where large is medium and everyone is trying to claim territory (in your pantry).

Every time I go through the Taco Bell drive-thru and they ask me what kind of sauce I want, I always blank for a second before spitting out, “uhhh mild and verde, please.”

It’s a question I’ve answered many times, always the same way, and yet my brain needs a second to process what’s going on.

Last night, I was getting a pre-movie (Les Mis) drink with some friends and was presented with a question my mouth answered with no hesitation while my brain continued to try to conceptualize the issue.

Me: “I’ll have a Coke.”
Bartender: “Sure, how do you like it?”

I think a lifetime of drinking soda without specifying how it is presented validates that I was taken aback by the question.  But then this morning I watched the latest episode of Parks and Recreation and realized it wasn’t silly at all:

Next time I’ll be sure to get my Coke in the form of a flash.