it’s no secret i don’t like pinkberry. of things i enjoy, pinkberry finds itself placed among the likes of rubbing elbows, feminist and thai food. i don’t particularly hate any of these things. i just think the world would be a better place without all of them.
pinkberry is my paris hilton. i don’t care for it. it has no value to society. yet whenever i hear about it, my attention is oddly drawn to it. yesterday, the tv was on in the background of my thoughts while i mindlessly surfed the net. i heard two things. pinkberry and rats.
i obviously had to do a quick google news search.
apparently, the pinkberry’s in new york have a rat infestation problem – a problem they’ve had for a while but haven’t been able to fix. a new report states “He showed us photos of mice droppings covering food storage bins at the 82nd Street shop. He says when workers complained to supervisors, they were told to put down traps and clean up” (abc7 new york). that’s pretty nasty.
now here’s the irony, i bet even knowing this, it still won’t dissuade anyone from going to pinkberry. i refer to pinkberry as less of a frosty dessert but more of a drug. pinkberry loyalty is unusually strong. it seems akin to mcdonald’s in the early 90’s. if anything, it’ll probably fuel the loyals to want to go more.
mmmm… someone’s talking about pinkberry. let’s get some
“We alerted customers about the mice. But today’s discovery didn’t affect the line that did continue to snake out the door.
‘It doesn’t look like it was on the food, just on the floor,’ said one of customers.” (consumerist)
that’s just nasty…
pinkberry now shares a place next to taco bell in my book.
roll your eyes to this blog, sarah. i know you went to one of the new york pinkberry’s.