If I had any musical talents whatsoever, I'd start a band. I'd name it "Guilty Pleasures" and we'd perform all of the songs that catch you by surprise and make you gasp when you hear them on the radio.
You know the songs...the ones that you used to sing into a hairbrush in your middle school bedroom's full-length mirror. They are, most likely, the same ones that are on your "gym" playlist.
Among some of my band's greatest hits would be Bel Biv DeVoe's Poison, Black Eyed Peas' My Humps and Wreckx-N-Effect's Rump Shaker.
I'm willing to bet that my band would be the most popular band in all of the land because, well, people tend to like bad things. I've been told (several times) that I like bad things and I'm okay with it. I embrace this fact.
Yes, it's true. I love poorly-made movies where the quirky couple rides into the sunset on a riding lawnmower, impromptu choreographed dances and early-90s throwbacks.
My heart warms knowing that people think of me when news breaks about a boy band tour or they hear silly gossip about one of my loves - Jordan Knight, JC Chasez, Kirk Cameron...the list goes on and on.
I'm not embarrassed by these facts. These former obsessions of mine molded me into the young lady I am today. Perhaps the name "Guilty Pleasures" is not a perfect fit. The only thing I'm guilty of is being totally awesome.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
No One Comes Between Me & A Double Cheeseburger
I hate to be so blunt but working the drive-thru window at a fast food chain restaurant does not take the brains of a neurosurgeon or a NASA engineer. You don't need to be an ivy league college professor or have a degree in theoretical quantum physics. All you need to do is jot down a, typically, short list of items & put those same items into a bag. Then, throw that same bag out the window.
One would think that that task couldn't be too difficult.
Well, one would be wrong.
While on a Patriots-winning-a-playoff-game high, I took a short drive to a local fast food chain for some late night sustenance. I ordered a signature hamburger product (with cheese, of course), a double cheeseburger, 20-piece nugget & two medium sodas for myself & my honey.
I paid just over $14.00 for this totally-unhealthy splurge. Hey, go big or go home, right?
Two sodas came through the window. Fantastic.
When I received the bag from the girl at the window, I looked in. Mental checklist: two boxes & a cheeseburger wrapped in paper. Perfect.
Sauce for the nuggets. Great.
Napkins. Nice.
Straws. Super.
However, when I got back to "Honey's" house, I discovered it was anything but perfect. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Apparently, the staffers split the 20-piece nuggets into two boxes of ten. The paper-wrapped cheeseburger, from memory, is, normally, packaged in a box. Nope. Not this time.
"Where's the double cheeseburger?" I said as steam began to cascade from my ears and as I dumped the contents of the bag onto the coffee table.
Yes, I realize that even the fast food drive-thru employees are humans and they, too, can make mistakes. I realize that I only "lost" approximately $1.50 and that I didn't need a late night snack that consisted of a greasy burger...on top of another greasy burger.
Well, call me crazy. This error in my order really annoyed me. I mean, really annoyed me.
I had a completely unreasonable reaction to my latest episode at the drive-thru. Why was the drive-thru window girl out to get me? What did I ever do to her? Nothing. She couldn't have been any older than 17. She was just a baby.
I tried to cool off, unsuccessfully. I stormed into the computer and filled out an online survey about my recent experience. I won't get into the details but let's just say it wasn't a glowing review.
This survey is anonymous so they'll never refund my $1.50 or send a hand-written apology letter to my home or be able to gift me free signature hamburger products for life...
Alright, alright, alright. Back to reality.
Please, retail associates of Rhode Island, going forward, don't make me do something I'm not proud of...like park the car, walk into the restaurant with tears streaming down my face asking for my French fries.
One would think that that task couldn't be too difficult.
Well, one would be wrong.
While on a Patriots-winning-a-playoff-game high, I took a short drive to a local fast food chain for some late night sustenance. I ordered a signature hamburger product (with cheese, of course), a double cheeseburger, 20-piece nugget & two medium sodas for myself & my honey.
I paid just over $14.00 for this totally-unhealthy splurge. Hey, go big or go home, right?
Two sodas came through the window. Fantastic.
When I received the bag from the girl at the window, I looked in. Mental checklist: two boxes & a cheeseburger wrapped in paper. Perfect.
Sauce for the nuggets. Great.
Napkins. Nice.
Straws. Super.
However, when I got back to "Honey's" house, I discovered it was anything but perfect. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Apparently, the staffers split the 20-piece nuggets into two boxes of ten. The paper-wrapped cheeseburger, from memory, is, normally, packaged in a box. Nope. Not this time.
"Where's the double cheeseburger?" I said as steam began to cascade from my ears and as I dumped the contents of the bag onto the coffee table.
Yes, I realize that even the fast food drive-thru employees are humans and they, too, can make mistakes. I realize that I only "lost" approximately $1.50 and that I didn't need a late night snack that consisted of a greasy burger...on top of another greasy burger.
I had a completely unreasonable reaction to my latest episode at the drive-thru. Why was the drive-thru window girl out to get me? What did I ever do to her? Nothing. She couldn't have been any older than 17. She was just a baby.
I tried to cool off, unsuccessfully. I stormed into the computer and filled out an online survey about my recent experience. I won't get into the details but let's just say it wasn't a glowing review.
This survey is anonymous so they'll never refund my $1.50 or send a hand-written apology letter to my home or be able to gift me free signature hamburger products for life...
Alright, alright, alright. Back to reality.
Please, retail associates of Rhode Island, going forward, don't make me do something I'm not proud of...like park the car, walk into the restaurant with tears streaming down my face asking for my French fries.
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