The Half Hot Chicken Sandwich Was Not Obtained Bra-less-ly

"If I didn't have to put my bra on, I'd go to McDonald's."

Now that is a great advertising slogan. It made me laugh.

ActuaLLy, by the time I got those sentences typed into my iPad she had got out of her pajamas and put on her bra, and was soon on her way across town to get our 11:00 PM snacks, for man, woman and dog.

I wasn't the hungry one who started this. But as soon as she mentioned being hungry, I became hungry.

Soon I wiLL have a chocolate milkshake, fries, and chicken sandwich. Mmmmmm.....

I have a Half Hot Chicken Sandwich.

What is that?

It is my invention. I get two chicken sandwiches, one hot & spicy, the other one regular. Then I take the meat off one sandwich and put on the other, add BBQ sauce, and eat just one bun. MmmMmm...

Food has now arrived, I must stop typing now ... Pressing Publish

UPDATE:

My wife ordered two chocolate milkshakes. Her's wound up being a vanilla shake. As she was getting the chocolate syrup out of the frig to repair the damage, I said, "Well, there's only 12 ways to fix it."

She asked, "How?"

I answered, "Buy a case of 12 bottles of that chocolate syrup."

My Half Hot Sandwich was eXtremely spicy - it was as if the one hot & spicy meat pattie had so much spice that it would probably glow radioactive orange in the dark.

The large $1.89 order of french fries were absolutely horribly cold and icky.

There is currently a Monopoly Prize game playing at McDonald's for cash, food and prizes. I told my wife that it would be ironic if we got a game piece for free french fries.

She began ripping the game pieces off the packaging to check them for fries. She laughed - sure enough, the last one she pulled off revealed "Medium Fries".

Sub No Way

I was looking forward to finally getting to go to the brand new Subway restaurant in our town, the only one we have, after the old one had been deactivated, torn down to make way for a gigantic pharmacy. The inactive bowling alley was destroyed too in the long overdue renovation at that very busy intersection of Borger, near the very center of the entire Texas panhandle.

But when I entered the sparkly fresh restaurant anxious for my Bacon Chicken Ranch on Something Random Picked Bread after at least four months without one, I was met with bizarre loud rock music and a line long of humans waiting. Plus that line now went from right to left instead of left to right, so I left the building after just a few seconds, maybe twelve, certainly less than thirty, hungry and irritated. The thought of eating in their environment glassed-in-box-on-display watching cars zoom by at this new vehicular busy location that used to be another glass smaller box ATM suddenly seemed totally bizarre and unnatural. I don't know which of those factors bothered me the most, or if they just quickly summed up as unacceptable, crossing a threshold, a virtual pressure relief valve, or rupture disc. Leave! Now! Go!

It was bad enough that I had just been to McDonald's and they didn't have any more McRibs or that my favorite local diner was closed on that day. No grilled chicken sandwich with bacon misery. There is always that horrible seasonal moment when you discover that McD suddenly rips away your favorite item, no, not just your favorite, your ONLY reason to ever go there, McRibs. Taste bud abuse. I hate you again McD, you evil giant food monster. Isn't that what God s'pposedly used to make woman in the Garden of Eden (?), no that was just a borrowed rib, not a barbequed rib; no bread, sauce, meat, dill pickle and onions. If he would have used a McRib then maybe women would suddenly, and magically, disappear and reappear at totally random times. Interesting thought.

It was a rare moment when I was hungry and I had absolutely no desire to cook anything plus the thought of creating dirty dishes annoyed me even farther. I think I finished the day with a bowl of breakfast cereal or a simple sandwich at home, I don't remember now what I had, just nothing fancy, with a side order of despair, sad taste buds that wanted to file for divorce from the rest of my body, and emptiness.

95 Cents Worth of Unhappiness at MCD

So here are my tales of pig sandwiches of my last 2 visits to MCD. I think that McRibs are great, but I think they have increased the price a little this time around. I went to the Borger store and ordered an Extra Value meal and saw that it was $3.80 on the glossy sign, but then I saw the total after tax on my credit card slip was just a little too high. I finally convinced them that they had charged me 10 cents too much but I really didn't want to do something with my credit card just to get 10 cents back and the owner just happened to swing by to say that someone had forgot to change the sign on Sunday because it was supposed to be 3.90 So I eat my messy wonderful sandwich, but I am 11 cents unhappier, that includes the tax. It is hard to describe/measure 11 cents worth of unhappiness, its a slight twinge maybe, a little less sparkle in my eye. So just 3 days later I am in Amarillo, still in Texas, and decide to fulfill my pork desire in a cheap fast way and head to MCD. I get there and the glossy sign of my pork sandwich (I look carefully) has a $4.29 (the price part is not glossy), man, that is about 10% higher for the same exact product, and when I mention it to the guy who is taking my order the girl right next to him mentions bluntly that this MCD has a different owner and they can charge whatever they want. Ok-dokey-artichokee were my thoughts, I am in a hurry to get back to the hospital anyway, I still want my not-quite-as-cheap pork so I tell him I would like the McRib Extra Value meal with a Dr Pepper, I read it directly off the sign, notice the fine print that it is supposed to have reg fries and drink. Well, a few minutes later these large fries show up and a larger drink than normal and I look at my credit card slip and they have supersized me (and trust me, you can tell by looking that I don't need to be supersized ANY more, EVER more, again in my entire life) and I have to explain to them about three times that this is not what I ordered and they are going back and forth between me and reading the sign, and I finally give up and realize that I can selectively pick out the best french fries so it is not all that bad, but I had already planned on Starbucks before going back, certainly didn't need the drink. So I sit down at this table in MCD, and I begin to notice that the sound (lets not go so far as to say music) coming out the speaker in the ceiling was somewhere from the middle of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, about 3 seconds worth only that 3 seconds repeated about 6 times, and then there was a pause, then back to RtRNRD, pause. It was just low enough that the person sitting at the next table could not hear it when I first asked him. Then a little while later he thought he could maybe hear it, but then he may have just been playing along with the old guy with BBQ sauce on his chin at the next table. I should have gone to look in the mirror in the restroom, I am sure I can detect 95 cents of unhappiness.

Time for mo' coffee .....