Where are the the Women?

    I recently told you about St. Bob becoming The Diet Coke Man. And if you have any friends who love Diet Coke, you will know that they absolutely swear by McDonald’s for having the best soda in a cup.

          Quick science lesson so you’ll know why:  To make up for melting ice that dilutes the flavor, Mickey D’s increases their syrup-to-water ratio. They also use filtered water and they keep it ice cold. Apparently, carbon dioxide dissolves and stays gaseous in super cold liquid. Thus, freshly jazzed up Diet Coke from McDonald’s is snappier, crispier, and spicier.

          So… I agreed to accompany said addict to the Golden Arches and while sitting there—okay, having a soft ice cream cone—I looked around and noticed several single men sitting at the tables. But no women.  Zero women by themselves. This whole idea of men whiling away their breakfast time at McDonald’s does not seem to appeal to women.

          I looked up studies, but none addressed this phenomenon, so I am left to speculate. Wildly, if I wish. Here are my theories:

          When men retire, they’re often at loose ends—what to do? Where to go?  Somebody else has been running the home, so they wander about and finally go get an Egg McMuffin. Women in retirement seem to stay much busier somehow (are we all shopping?)

          Also, while women may indeed enjoy fast food, they’re more likely to get it at the drive-through, rather than sit inside and eat alone. We’re more social and will go to lunch with friends, but we are reluctant to dine alone.

          So there you have it—the answer to the mysteriously strong flavor of Diet Coke at McDonald’s AND the explanation of the weird demographics inside McDonald’s in the mornings.  You’re welcome.

Hey, put down that Coke and subscribe to my Youtube Mom channel,--you’re missing hundreds of quick life hacks!  And... you can get some Christmas shopping done right here!

Diet Coke Man

           I was just living a regular, suburban life, unaware that my husband had, yet again, become famous.

          But this time it’s not for hosting game shows. This time I was in Home Goods drooling over their darling Christmas décor. I asked a clerk to watch a gingerbread house while I went to get my husband’s attention. “He’s up there, buying cases of Diet Coke,” I explained. Apparently this home accessory store sells them cheaper than the supermarkets.

          “Oh!” the girl brightened. “I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never met him.”

          Seriously. St. Bob is now a folk hero, like Davy Crockett, or Johnny Appleseed. Stories of his extravagant bulk purchases have filtered through the entire staff, who no doubt text each other, “He’s here!” when he starts emptying their fridge into his shopping cart.

          And now I feel obligated to introduce her to him, and hope a line doesn’t form. What if people think it’s the check-out line, and then discover that it isn’t? What if they ask Bob to autograph items they haven’t purchased yet?

          I can see the manager beaming from 20 yards away, the same way women do wherever we go. The Diet Coke Man.  Well, at least he isn’t the Hamburglar.

    Hey, here’s something you can do while you’re waiting in line—watch my short Youtube Mom videos!  All kinds of life hacks, just waiting in line for you!