"Americans used to say where there's a will, there's a way. Nowadays, it's where there's a pill, there's a way out." - - Burnt Toast
Showing posts with label fast food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fast food. Show all posts

Tuesday!

What is that? Just another day right? A rather mundane day isn't it? Tucked right in there between Monday the Heinous and Wednesday the Hump. I bet Tuesday feels left out because of its relative insignificance. Even Thursday gets props every now and then because it is "almost Friday!"

Poor poor Tuesday.

Would you believe that Tuesday is named for Mars, the Roman god of war? At least in the Latin based languages it is. Martes is Spanish for Tuesday . From Old English (and I ain't talking about that shitty malt liquor) it is derived from Tiw's Day, or Tiwaz or Tyr, a god of war and law. Such a strange name for what is a relatively and generally benign day of the week.

This makes me want to spice Tuesday up a little bit. Let's make war on something!

I made mention of the company refrigerator a day or so ago and anyone who has worked in an office setting knows the horrors of the kitchen fridge. These convenient cooling apparatuses are useful for storing beverages (or brebages: a joke only three people understand), food products and the occasional needle of heroin insulin. These communal boxes oftentimes are turned into impromptu science experiments as more and more food, some half-eaten, some not touched for eons, gets piled upon and piled upon by more food and before you know it the thing is a very much living and breathing creature. I am sure living in our fridge is a yet to be discovered antibiotic to fight the latest strains of flesh eating bacteria.

I looked in our refrigerator the other day ignoring the rampant decay and miscellaneous swollen bags of indescribable goo to find this oddity. . .


What kind of a society do we live in where there is a market for pre-prepared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? What disturbs me most is not the fact that we have become so lazy we can't even slap together two pieces of bread to make one of the most satisfying creations of all time, but that in some far away factory there is a giant, humming whirligig sawing the crusts off these sandwiches. Are we that lazy?

Do you understand how much time and effort was put into the development, testing and eventual production of this gastronomic monstrosity? The cost is probably in the tens of millions of dollars from start to finish in labor and time costs, development studies, blind taste panels, measurement, weighing, and calculation, packaging, recipe formulation and in the end, a multi-million dollar rotating and vibrating knife to remove the proper amount of crusts from this sandwich. I feel for the person who sits at the bar at night telling his friends all about his day of watching this thing operate.

Do yourselves a favor America. Get off your fucking ass and do it yourself. While some things may be good for the economy, buying this garbage is not one of them. And since this thing has been living in the refrigerator for months, I think I will take it home and shoot it with a gun. It most certainly deserves a quick death as does its original idea. Thanks Smucker's, you fuckers!

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Peeved. . .

Another thing you dear readers are well aware of is my thorough disdain and outright disgust with the fast food industry in America.  First of all, most of it barely qualifies as food and nearly all of it is patently unhealthy and of course, don't get me started about the gross incompetence of the employees.

Yet now, we have another heinous assault on our collective sensibilities by virtue of push, pre-recorded suggestive selling at the drive through speaker.  It goes something like this:

Pre-recorded speaker voice:  WOW!  WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY A MOCHA FRAPPE?

Me:  (startled) Uh no thank you, I would like a number 27 please with a Coke.

Real Human:  Uh, what's dat you say?  What's your otter?

Me:  (disgusted)  Anything but a MOCHA FRAPPE you *@^%#@!!!!

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Thank You Baby Jesus!

Man, we finally got some rain today. For a week now it has been threatening, rumbling and bumbling out there, the whole time feeling like a big, warm, wet, sha-nay-nay and finally it came a falling.

So, I get back to the office today, sopping wet from the inundation and all I can think about is how delicious and warming my hot lunch will be today. Braised cabbage and turnips with smoked sausage, some regular ol' white rice and a modified succotash of garden fresh lima beans, yellow sweet corn, okra and tomatoes. That and a bottle of Trappey's Red Bull Louisiana Hot Sauce and I am a very happy man.

I heat it up in the microwave 'till its nice and hot and sterilized, give it a good stir, shake way too much hot sauce on there and begin to eat. It was fabulous, that is until I nearly broke a tooth on a bone chip or a tiny piece of gravel in the sausage and one bite later I ladled up a big black bug of some sort.

For crying out loud! Is there a full moon out or something??

Guess I should have gone to Taco Bell instead.

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The Standing Rule. . .

. . .if you can deep fry it, somebody will eat it.

Twinkies.

Potatoes.

Shrimp.

GIANT SPIDERS???????

Excuse me while I go hunt down my skin. It just left on outta here.

Thanks, or maybe no thanks, in this case, to El Campeador for the gruesome find.

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Lipids. . .

I may have mentioned before that I am on a diet and to date I've lost about 10 pounds. Those who know me are aghast when I say that I am dieting and it was a hard thing for me to swallow initially, because growing up rail skinny all my life, a few pounds here and there makes an exaggerated difference. I never thought I'd have to diet. But here I am. Dieting.

I used to be 135 pounds of slim and trim whoopass, but now I'm 175 pounds of flubbery bubble-butt. Gettin' old is a biotch, lemme tell you.

Where's my probiotic yogurt?

Anyway, I've shunned fast foods for over a month maybe going on two now, with the oft exception, but for the most part I've stuck to it. Soup, high fiber grains, V-8 and minimal Co-Cola's and sugary drinks. Less Heineken. :( I feel better and my bulging beer belly is slowly disintegrating back to a more normal pooch that I can live with.

With all that unneeded insight into my personal struggles being said, I found a website that should inspire all of us to watch what we eat. Cuz, you know, you ARE what you eat and who in the hell wants to be a McGangBang?

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Call Me McDumbass. . .

I said it before and I'll say it again. . .when will I ever learnt?

This morning I went to the "place that can't seem to get their shit together." And now I'm in a rage.

Not only was the black girl, yes she was black, call me a racist if you like, the black girl at the window was so utterly rude, but the fuckers working inside still can't seem to follow the goddamn fucking pictogram for the proper assembly of a fucking sausage McMuffin. Well, I guess I'm just McFucked because those McFuckers left off the goddamn McFucking McCheese!


How McFucking hard is it to assemble a four part McFucking breakfast sandwich?? What the McFuck????

And again, posted in the window was a sign asking, "How are we McFucking up?" They'd love to know. . .well, they are about to McFucking know that their McCan'tfuckinggetitright restaurant is the dirty butthole of the McFucking Universe!

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

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Fast Food In Southwest Jackson. . .

I had a rant a while back about the less than stellar service that I received from the McDonald's just around the corner from my office. Since then, I have resigned myself to very low expectations on days like today when convenience outweighs quality in food choice. Yet, I am still perplexed at the terrible level of service that I receive from these establishments.

This afternoon I went to the newly renovated KFC at Highway 80 and J.R. Lynch Street and ordered the #5 from the pictogram menu. Two pieces of chicken, 2 sides, a biscuit and a drink. Easy right?

Wrong!

My order came with ONE piece of chicken.

Not to mention the fact that the person at the window never said a single word to me after completing my order at the speaker.

Now, I don't talk down to people. I was raised to speak respectfully to all people, using ma'am and sir, thank you and no thank you and lastly, please. I'll even waste mini-portions of my days holding doors open for unapologetic types. And what do I get from this twit at the window? Cold stares and not a peep. I even said thank you, knowing that this person would obviously rather shit in my mashed potatoes than issue a word of recognition to me. This, all topped off nicely by stiffing me for a chicken wing.

Now, some might say I'm overreacting. Maybe. But I believe in principles and my principles state that if I am working in a service industry, I am going to try my best to exceed my customers expectations. It just seems logical to me. I've basically been in the service industry my whole life, whether cooking or working here with the fam damily business.

I don't know. I was beginning to think that my hippified appearance may have something to do with it. My hair, my hair. Or more realistically, maybe they are just pissed that they wallow in a lowly service job with little reward, can't speak proper English and are too mindfucked to even give a shit what happens outside their own pathetic little worlds.

Fuck it. I guess it's bologna sandwiches with homemade chow chow from here on out.

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That's It!!

Have we had enough yet? Have we? Have we?

Now THEY are screwing with chicken joints and in my opinion. . .they've just gone too far!!

Now I'm pissed off, thanks to SondraK and the gang.

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Mmmm......Mmmmm......Good Grief!

This has to be the first time lawyers are going to argue over cow buttholes in U.S. District court.

The parent company of Hardee's is suing Jack In The Box over television commercials that imply Hardee's and Carl's Jr. use cow anus in their hamburgers.

I'll take a little cow anus over death anyday. In case anyone forgot, Jack In The Box killed four children with e. coli contaminated hamburgers. Bon appetit!

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HEALTH ALERT!

If you ate finger foods at the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue Bash / Party / Fiesta / Soiree / WingDing / Function / Hullabaloo / Splurge / Blowout / Spree / Coffee Klatch / Brannigan / Shindig / Get-Together, please proceed immediately to the nearest doctoral facilities because you could potentially be the victim of "Dirty Butthole Finger Syndrome."

It turns out that one of Wolfgang Puck's employees had a pretty bad case of DBFS because a) he or she has Hepatitis A and B) couldn't seem to find the handwashing apparatus after crapping on said finger. Finger touches food, you eat finger food, finger food forks you to death.

So, for all you forking finger food feeders out there and all you flipping finger food fabricators, feel free to flail five fingers following falling faucets fools.

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Have it your way. . .


What?? You don't ride YOUR horse to Burger King?

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