Today I went to Wendy’s for lunch, but didn’t want the usual. So, I shook things up. Instead of a #1 with cheese, no pickles, and a Coke, I opted for (hang on to something!) a #8, and sweet tea. Hey, nobody can accuse me of losing my edge… I’m still out there, man, pushing the envelope.
The #8 features a “homestyle” chicken sandwich, and it was incredibly good. In fact, shockingly good. It had mayo on it, which is the devil’s condiment. But there was only a hint of it, there was no oozing. And the chicken was perfect, as was the bun. The lettuce and tomato were fresh, too. Somehow, the planets aligned and I was served greatness on a red plastic tray.
But it’s gonna be one of those situations, I bet, where I’m chasing the dragon. Know what I mean? I’ll order it again and again, in hopes that the magic can be recaptured. But I’ll be disappointed, confused, and doubting myself. I’ll probably end up walking the streets, with tears streaming down my face, thinking, “Was it ever as good as I remember, or was it all just one big cruel illusion?”
I don’t know… I enjoyed the hell out of that sandwich today, but know it’s only going to lead to pain and heartache down the line. I probably should’ve just stuck with the #1. <Sigh>
School started yesterday, and I feel mildly guilty for enjoying the quiet so much. No TVs blaring… nobody watching Welcome To My Nightmare on YouTube… nobody playing guitar directly above my head… It’s fantastic. But someday, in the not too distant future, both boys will be moved out, and the quiet will become the norm. And I’ll long for the good ol’ days when our house was “alive,” etc.
You see? I’m incapable of being happy. I really need to learn how to drink again, or maybe grow a mustache and buy a 1982 Trans Am. Or all of the above.
Last week I scrolled through the archives at Mockable, and there’s a lot of stuff I barely remember. But I found myself laughing quite a bit, and smiling even more. I’m proud of what metten and I did there, for the first year, especially.
I wish I would’ve stuck with it a little longer, but got sidetracked with the writing of Crossroads Road. By the end I was posting bizarre fiction – at a website where the original mission statement was “to mock.” Clearly, I’d lost my way, and didn’t have enough time to devote to it, even if I’d stayed on course.
Metten and a group of mocking volunteers kept the fires burning for a while longer, and did a good job of it. But now, unfortunately, the whole thing’s deader than Kelsey’s nuts.
However, I feel like it deserves better than just a long, slow fadeaway. Please stay tuned. Metten and I have been bouncing some interesting text messages back and forth, and hopefully we’ll have something to announce soon. It’ll be fun.
And speaking of metten, he’s now hosting a weekly radio show, which you can download and stream here. I just learned about it last night, and haven’t had a chance to listen yet. But I’m going to rectify that problem real soon. Check it out, and support the man!
I’m really tired, and struggling like a mofo. Good god. I only worked two days this week, and they kicked my ass. I just want to lie on a couch now, and read.
And so, I’ll leave you with a Question that might go nowhere. But we’ll see what happens. In celebration of my new lunchtime discovery, the homestyle chicken sandwich at Wendy’s, I’d like to know your top 3 favorite fast food items. Please limit it to reasonably well-known chains, not some obscure diner in Jack Sock, Minnesota – that doesn’t count. Keep it to fast food chains some of us might recognize. OK? OK.
Use the comments section below, and I’ll be back soon.
Have a great day, boys and girls.
Now playing in the bunker
Treat yourself to a 5-Pound Replica of Human Fat!
I didn’t see anybody mention the following unless I missed it.
1)The Rally’s/Checker’s mushroom swiss burger. I could eat about a ton o’ those
2)Chipotle Barbacoa and brown rice with the hot red sauce is outstanding.
3)Chick fil’ a’ used to make the best fast food breakfass in all the land until going there for food became a political statement. I promise my fast food choice will never reflect my political opinion, just my stomach’s.