Ronald McDonald Looks Like He Just Ate Your Pet.
I am a weak, weak, filthy, no dirty, no filthy, filthy-dirty woman.
Driving into the Maritimes I saw a billboard for a McDonalds McLobster Roll. And I can't stop obsessing about it.
I don't eat at McDonalds, the last time I ate there was probably 6 years ago and I still feel like I need a shower to get the slime off. I'm not opposed to things fried in sketchy fat, just not from the place with the creepy copper haired guy in the yellow onesie. With that crazy red smile, Ronald looks like he just ate your pet.
We're on a fast food-free road trip, kids haven't asked for McD's once because they know I'd fucking freak on them and go off on some tirade about the chicken being marinated in Mr. Clean. And yet here I am secretly pining for the McLobster.
As we're leaving the Maritimes I mention this sickness to Rob who says, "why don't you just get one?"
It's so hypocritical though.
I peer into the back seat. Kids are passed out. Great, the drugs I gave them earlier are working.
Okay. Let's do it! You only live once...and generally not as long if you eat the McDonalds lobster-chicken.
We pull into McD's and as I'm getting out of the car...kids wake up. Of course. I'm pretty sure McDonalds has high pitched frequency that only kids can hear - kind of like deer whistles to wake them up so they'll never miss out on fries and a jello flavoured McFlurry. Hey, McFlurry, not a bad idea! When in Rome.
"We're eating at McDonalds?" one of them pipes up.
Oh, don't start. I invented that rule before a McLobster started mindfucking with me.
Ugh, so now, I have to cave and get them each one of those Smurf meals along with my McLobster. The next thing you know we're all in the parking lot gorging on Ronnie's filth (except Rob who refuses to participate and will lord this over me for decades). We can't even be civilized about the whole thing and sit at a table like normal people because on top of my hypocrisy I'm an evil mom because Ronnie's plastic pedophile playland is not part of my vacation agenda.
Was the ice cream scoop of mayo and lobster bits plopped in a white bun gross? Yeah!
Was it worth it? Yeah! (Well, maybe not for the lobster.)
But at least now I can get on with my vacation without lamenting that I missed out on one of life's great culinary experiences.