I'm Studying You

Don't Supersize Me

The weather's finally breaking. Back up in the 50's today. Hopefully I won't have to put on another pair of pants til November.

Decided to save a few bucks and go to McDonalds for lunch. I get cravings for it once in awhile. Double Cheeseburger. Dollar Menuaire, baby.

Then later on, I remember why I don't go to McDonalds more often. Remember Morgan Spurlock's documentary "Super Size Me"? The movie that everyone said "scared them straight off the Big Mac" as if it were cocaine and they'd just seen "Scared Straight"?

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0390521/
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0078205/

Well, not me. Yes, parts of the movie were gross. But it was more like watching a fucking hour-and-a-half long commercial for McDonalds. And who in their right mind actually wants to eat their 3 squares at the golden arches, every day? Of course you're going to get sick, jackass! Don't make me get all Bruce Willis on you and tell you "there's always a little shit in the meat." (And damn youtube, for only having that clip available in Spanish...no offense, Spanish-speaking readers. But I can't put that up here.)

No. The next day, no, for like the next 3 days after watching that movie, I marched my happy ass over to McDonalds for at least one meal a day. Because I'm foolish. And for an hour and a half, I've stared at images of Ronald McDonald and pals, listening to this man supersize his value meals and gulping down Shamrock Shakes and puking up whatever his kidneys are rejecting (and I think I'm making up the part about the Shamrock Shakes...don't remember if he actually ordered one or not but it sounds damn good right about now), and it all means nothing to me. It means, damn, I'm kinda hungry, and Chicken McNuggets sounds like a good idea.

Yeah, Chicken McNuggets did sound like a good idea. Til I got a bone in one once. I remember once when I was a little, little kid, not long after they introduced Chicken McNuggets. I loved 'em. I think back in the day they used every part of the chicken except the cluck. We had an extra hot mustard sauce packet thingey (I know they're not actually packets...what are they? Mini-tubs?) in the fridge. Know what else I really liked as a little, little kid? Cheese Sandwiches. With mustard. And that particular afternoon, we happened to be out of mustard. What I'm about to say next may come as a surprise, so do not try this at home. I repeat, do not try this at home. Consider yourselves warned.

McDonalds' hot mustard sauce does not taste good on a cheese sandwich.

It's disgusting. And I think I was using regular cheddar cheese instead of American. Not a good combo. In case you ever get the urge for a cheese sandwich.

What was my point? I tend to lose it when I've got McDonalds warring on in my belly. Oh yeah. So I've got the McDonalds. That's what I call it. That stomachache you get after eating McDonalds. It gives you the McDonalds. I guy I used to work with, everytime we had McDonalds, would smell the inside of the bag before he ate. He said he did this because everytime he farted after eating McDonalds, it smelled like the inside of the bag. Oddly enough, he was right. I know, sick image. But it's true. And I never said this blog was gonna be filled with flowers and puppies and cutsie-tootsie rub-a-dub fluffy fun. And the hell with Morgan Spurlock and his dumb movie. I think I fell asleep at the end of it actually.