Oh you’ve been there. It’s the weekend. Never got around to shopping and now you find yourself rummaging through the freezer. Hmmm, let’s see. Steak? Not thawed. Peas? Maybe. If I had some. Wait. What’s that? Gorton’s fish things! YES. Wait again. What’s that in the box? BONUS! AN EXTRA ONE! Now, while I was only a career C-minus math student, I do recognize seven when I see it, not the six marked on the box. Gorton’s, I love you! And sure, the origin of my breaded fish bits here may be in question, but it’s hard to argue when you get more of them—free. However, upon further reflection, this may be bad. RIght now, one of my neighbors is probably cleaning their .308, all because they got five, not six.
Gorton’s, I hate you.
Tags: Gorton’s
1 comment:
you know someone working a conveyor belt at the gorton's factory was docked a day's wages when he came up short on a fish fillet thingy.
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