Friday, October 26, 2007

Do you want fries with that?

I love fast food.
I don't care WHAT it is - it's better if it comes in a paper bag and someone asks you "Do you want to value-size that?".

It's greasy, it's fatty, it's life-threatening, and I love it so.

Why am I dead-set on making my arteries scream for mercy?
I blame it on my childhood.

(What? I'm not allowed to do that anymore? It's not Politically Correct?)
Well, tough. I don't feel like taking responsibility for the fact that I'll eat crap on a stick as long as it's deep-fried.
So, to hell with it. I'm pulling out the freshman Psych. card and blaming it on my Mother. (*grins*)

After all, isn't that what Mothers are for? Isn't that what I have to look forward to?

(Considering that there are more charges for Chick Fil-A on our debit card statement than there are rednecks at Wal-Mart, you can see that I am doomed to the same fate when my offspring get their first Lipitor prescriptions.)

But eh.
You know, I'm usually so brain-fried by dinner time that on some days it's a wonder that I don't accidentally microwave the cat for dinner... so it could be worse.
The kids should be grateful! I'm actually doing them a favor here.

Chicken soaked in peanut oil is a damn sight better than singed cat hair any day of the week.

1 comment:

  1. Oh my god, I love fast food so much. I hadn't eaten it in years until this year. Now I frequent McDonald's and Jack in the Box weekly. Sometimes several times a week.

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