Monday, November 13, 2006



I feel disgusting.

If I owned a scale I would step on it and the springs would pop out, and it would make some sort of horrid falling apart sound, and *TILT* would flash across the screen until the whole thing burst into flames. (Luckily I do not own a scale because, much in the same way that beauty magazines make me feel ugly, scales make me feel fat, and I don’t need that kind of negative energy in my life.)

In an act of desperation I went to Wendy’s for dinner tonight. (Ugh – my current work schedule has me LIVING on fast / cafeteria food Monday through Friday – Gag.) I tried to be good – 3 chicken strips and a small Caesar salad. (Yes I know, the chicken is deep-fried and Caesar dressing is hardly a healthy choice but there were only so many options available. Sheesh.)

I reached for my little bag from the take out window… but instead of 3 crispy chicken strips, they tried to hand me 3 crispy chicken sandwiches. “Excuse me, miss, yeah, sorry but this is not what I ordered. See, I wanted 3 strips and you gave me 3 sandwiches. And while I appreciate the gesture – you obviously think I’m WAY too thin and need to bulk up a bit – three fast food sandwiches just are not gonna get eaten by me and I hate to be wasteful. No worries. Honest mistake. I don’t even care about the price difference – Just give me my strips, I’m starving.” To which she replied “Oh, ok… ummm (pressing buttons frantically on the little register) 3 strips instead of 3 sandwiches… yeah, I’m gonna need 15 more cents from you.” What!? Really!? It’s the same freakin chicken! And with the sandwich you get bread and lettuce and maybe even tomato… and you charged me for three sandwiches and I still owe you money? Pardon me while I rethink this correction. But it was too late – the three sandwiches were re-shelved and three chicken strips were placed in my little bag. Ehh.

Back at my desk – yes I took fast food BACK to my cubicle at like 8 pm… my life RULES! – I scarf down the chicken strips and then open my salad. And then Wendy’s proceeds to really chap my hide. There is BACON on my Caesar salad. Not only is Caesar salad not supposed to come with bacon on it – but adding little salty, fried, bits of pig fat to what was supposed to be a “healthy fast food alternative” just makes a mockery of the whole system. No wonder Americans are fat.

So now I sit. And the bacon, and the dressing, and the crispy fried chicken coating all sit in my stomach. Blaah. Think I could find a stomach pump on e-bay?

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