Life Rule #912: I'm Lovin' It.
We all know that McDonald's isn't good for us. Every one of us takes a little bit of solace when we proudly announce that we're not sure when the last time we had a McDouble was. But when you whip through that drive-thru or, God forbid, actually go INTO a Ronnie Mac's well I doubt that every single one of us doesn't have a little smile on our face.
Sure, we'll be cringing on the porcelain later on but the moment you order that 20 piece nugget you're taken back. Back to cross-country road trips with the family crammed into a maroon Dodge Caravan. Dad's clinging onto his last nerve for dear life. Mom's trying in vain to keep the mood upbeat, singing her songs and checking on the kids in the backseat again. Of course, these antics only raise your father's blood pressure to staggering heights. All of us kids were bored of our books back at the last state line. We'd already conquered every Gameboy game we owned. We've made a deadly sibling bet to see who had the stones to ask if we were there yet, just ONE. MORE. TIME. The tension hung in the air thicker than a pit of quicksand sitting in the middle of a molasses factory in the middle of winter. THICK. And just when you start to wonder if your dad is going to take you all off of the next overpass you see it all at once....
The golden arches. Like Moses guiding his children through the desert, the Promised Land was near. Except on this day there is no parting of the Red Sea. There are no burning bushes or manna raining from the skies, only Big Macs. On this day you've been lead by a horrifying clown and his accomplices comprised of a giant purple pear and a crook who burgles hamburgers.
You don't have to say a word. You dad is all over this one. He knows how to get this road trip back on track. Only the happiest of meals. And yes, you're all content. As you pull back onto the highway after gorging yourselves in the grease-fest that is McDonald's you lean back in your seats and wonder if life can get any better? That is, until you hit that filthy motel in Lincoln, NE later that night. Only then will you realize that you'd all sold your souls to the devil.
So McDonald's. It's terrible for us. Yet every once in a microwaveable blue moon we indulge. Because we can. Because we should.
And if you're feeling bad about scarfing down that McChicken well then you just go right ahead and sprint for the Playplace. That's right. What's a dirtier feeling than eating all that shit? Jumping into a ball pit. So kill two fries with one shake. Dive in and swim around a bit. And later that night while you're showering off the day's mistakes just remember....
You loved it.