McFuckingGriddle
There's a lot of crazy things in this world and none are creepy or insane to think about than fate. Destiny is something that makes perfect sense to a lot of people, and for good reasons. It's an amazing thought that somehow everything matters, nothing can go wrong because you're not the one fucking it up. If something's going to go wrong, it's supposed too. Let it go, move on, look forward. The world sucks, but maybe it's meant to be. Maybe. Shit like that is what makes life interesting and special.* Special moments are hard to come by, but there is one guarantee in my life fulfilled by none other than the multi-billion corporation McDonald's. The specific "special moments" I am referring to are the moments between 3 and 10:30 am. I know what you're thinking, "Aren't those McDonald's breakfast hours?" Yes. Yes they are.
The reason I am singling out The Golden Arches' breakfast menu is because of one item: the McGriddle. I know some people probably just threw up in their mouths, but if your a friend of mine you're probably drooling a little bit right now. Never had the pleasure of a floppy McGriddle in your mouth? The time is now. You'll regret it if you never try one; I mean, I never saw the World Trade Center buildings and now I never will. That sucks hard. From now on I live my life like there's no tomorrow. I'm doing everything I can now before it's gone. I've signed up for Yoga lessons, I'm planning a tattoo appointment and I'm currently exchanging papers to adopt a mohawk sporting Cambodian child. So when it comes to McGriddles, Just Do It.
I think the best part about the McG* is how convient it is when you want it the most: when you're drunk as shit. For example, McDonald's starts serving the greasy bastards at 3am, which means the bars are closed, you've had enough time at your friends' shitty ass house that you like so much for some God forsaken reason and finally, you're motherfucking hungry.
The McGriddle is effortless in its simplicity and each delicious ingredient only adds to its mystery and legend. I mean, everything used to construct the breakfast sandwich is carefully selected with the drunken masses in mind. For example: did you fall asleep/pass out before the McGriddle made it to your mouth? That's ok because it tastes perfect microwaved in the morning. It's like you just bought it! You're probably saying, "But, hey! I passed out. There's no way I can put that bitch in the fridge before I fall asleep." No worries because the McGriddle doesn't ever need to be stored in any special way besides the way you ordered it. The resilient little guy keeps himself together for the rest of the early morning so that when you wake up face down in drool, it's right there next to your big fat head, ripe for the pickin'.
*And that sentence so gay sounding.
*McG=McGriddle, not that douchebag director, because you all know he didn't do anything close to as great as the McGriddle was, is and ever will be. Maybe a few episodes of The OC. But whatever.
The reason I am singling out The Golden Arches' breakfast menu is because of one item: the McGriddle. I know some people probably just threw up in their mouths, but if your a friend of mine you're probably drooling a little bit right now. Never had the pleasure of a floppy McGriddle in your mouth? The time is now. You'll regret it if you never try one; I mean, I never saw the World Trade Center buildings and now I never will. That sucks hard. From now on I live my life like there's no tomorrow. I'm doing everything I can now before it's gone. I've signed up for Yoga lessons, I'm planning a tattoo appointment and I'm currently exchanging papers to adopt a mohawk sporting Cambodian child. So when it comes to McGriddles, Just Do It.
I think the best part about the McG* is how convient it is when you want it the most: when you're drunk as shit. For example, McDonald's starts serving the greasy bastards at 3am, which means the bars are closed, you've had enough time at your friends' shitty ass house that you like so much for some God forsaken reason and finally, you're motherfucking hungry.
The McGriddle is effortless in its simplicity and each delicious ingredient only adds to its mystery and legend. I mean, everything used to construct the breakfast sandwich is carefully selected with the drunken masses in mind. For example: did you fall asleep/pass out before the McGriddle made it to your mouth? That's ok because it tastes perfect microwaved in the morning. It's like you just bought it! You're probably saying, "But, hey! I passed out. There's no way I can put that bitch in the fridge before I fall asleep." No worries because the McGriddle doesn't ever need to be stored in any special way besides the way you ordered it. The resilient little guy keeps himself together for the rest of the early morning so that when you wake up face down in drool, it's right there next to your big fat head, ripe for the pickin'.
*And that sentence so gay sounding.
*McG=McGriddle, not that douchebag director, because you all know he didn't do anything close to as great as the McGriddle was, is and ever will be. Maybe a few episodes of The OC. But whatever.
posted by girl. at 9:25 PM
1 Comments:
must..get..McGriddle...
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