An imaginary conversation between myself and Pinkberry, the Los Angeles-based frozen-yogurt chain: Me: Pinkberry, please come to Chicago. I am in Los Angeles this week and I just had my first taste of you. The tangy, real-yogurt flavor is coursing through my system like grade-A crackrock. But you only exist in LA and New York. Why won't you open franchises in Chicago? Pinkberry: Well, first off, Chicago was named America's Fattest City by Men's Fitness in 2006 and I feel that the city won't appreciate Pinkberry's 25 calories and zero fat per ounce. Me: OK, this is true. We Chicagoans might not get excited about Pinkberry's low-calorie label, just as we do not fret about the fat content of the encased meats that we gobble. But we'll still eat it! Â I don't listen to country music but I'd still bag Tim McGraw. Pinkberry: First of all, you DO listen to country music. Like, all the time. I'm pretty sure you know most of the lyrics to "Jesus Take the Wheel" and you sing it in the shower with a fake southern drawl that sounds like you've been snacking on the wrong end of a novocaine needle. Me: (Pause. Deep breath.) Fine. But you get my point. We Chicagoans will eat your frozen yogurt DESPITE its lack of calories and fat. That's a promise.
Pinkberry: Furthermore, a city as cold as Chicago is not a smart financial investment for a frozen yogurt company. Me: Oh yeah—I forgot, because New York, a city you have been aggressively colonizing since the fall of 2006, is really a tropical oasis. One time I was just lounging on a hot sandy dune in the middle of Central Park in January when a monkey threw a coconut at my head. Gave me a concussion. I almost died because all the paramedics were out rubbing ice on each other's nipples and eating frozen yogurt. Pinkberry: You're being sarcastic. Me: No I'm not, I'm telling you a really serious story about when I almost died one time. Pinkberry: No, you're being a sarcastic jerk. Me: Fine, but my point is that New York has a winter, too, and you've invested there. Chicago gets slammed with a nasty cold pretty reliably, but hey, remember Item A? We're FAT. We don't eat in response to the weather. We eat in response to waking up, and our heartbeats. And also? Chicago summer heat is brutal, and the ice cream trucks make a killing. Those profits could be yours, Pinkberry. Pinkberry: Speaking of profits, Chicago is too middle class to pony up for my sophisticated yogurt--it's over four bucks for a small with one topping. Up the sizing and get a little ambitious with the toppings and you can easily ring up over 6 dollars. Me: So Chicago is too middle class for you? Pinkberry: I didn't say that. Oh, whoops, yes I did. I said exactly that. Me: I'm losing this fight, aren't I? Pinkberry: Yeah. I'm not coming to Chicago. Me: Fine. How do you know what I sing in the shower? Pinkberry: Um, gotta jet. Keep it tangy. Me: Creepy.
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