Apparently, I am growing

Either that or, with my period finally starting today (hooray!), my emotions are actually regulating. I just wish I could say the same for my oil glands. *sigh*


I hate fast-food establishments in Alexandria. In this area in general, really — I’d say I’ve had a 6% success rate with actually driving off with what I ordered. Sure, you can argue that I overcomplicate things by saying “no ice” in my drink and “no onions” on just about everything, but come on — a girl deserves some luck once in awhile.

For those of you who do not have a grab bag of “Which language will I be greeted with today?” when hunger hits, let me explain how to reduce the chances of error at the drive-thru. First, do you see the list of combos? Order one. I don’t care that you don’t want the fries — accept that you will live when they come with the combo and eat them and you will love them. Trust. Do not ask for salt or ketchup for them, though — you will end up with no fries and yet a packet of ketchup. While it’s not difficult for a worker to screw up “Combo No. 3” with no other instructions, it happens. Like it did to me today.

But before I go there, one other thing: You have two drink choices. No, I don’t care that they have seven fountain drinks, five milkshake flavors and a host of things like milk and OJ and shit like that. Your choice is either “Coke” or “Diet.” Period. The end. If you have any hope of trying to make it to a particular destination on time, you say “diet” and you do not argue if it does not TASTE like diet. Got it?

That said, I was running early this morning — a mighty feat. So I decided to toddle up to King Street and actually walk into the McDonald’s in Bradlee Center. You know — because walking in is supposed to increase your odds of getting the breakfast you order, no?


I was near Shirlington Village when I found out that I had somebody else’s breakfast — a novel concept, given that I was THE ONLY PERSON IN THE STORE AT THE TIME AND THE DRIVE-THRU WAS EMPTY.

Oh, and by the way, I ordered a No. 2 with coffee. Hence why I went inside — I like to fix my own java, thankyouverymuch, instead of holding the cup between my knees and stirring my brew as I accelerate to 85 mph to avoid getting kilt on the highway. I’ve had many a scorched thigh in the morning. 🙁

Let me tell you something about me. I am just so nice and sweet and perky sometimes that even I want to kill me. Other times, I am a grab bag of misdirected emotions, and believe me, I’ve got a few toiling around that really, really need an outlet.

I take after my mom in the martyr respect. Both of us, separately of each other, have gone back to whatever store it was and literally THROWN the wrong order at them and stormed out without even asking for a refund. Seriously, when you are hungry for something and you get something that you would never in a million years order (like today), you get turned off by the prospect of food in general.

I also take after my grandmother in that I am happy to tell someone who has wronged me to take that sammich and wipe their asses with it. I shudder to recount how many times I might have let that slip out of my mouth. 😉

On occasion, I will ask for them to fix their mistake. But when you’re on the ramp to 395 North and there’s no place to turn around, it ain’t worth it to try to go back.

So let’s chalk this up to me being a mature adult for not losing my cookies on some poor girl who wouldn’t have understood what I was saying anyway (and who clearly didn’t in the first place, apparently). I gnawed on half of the offending sandwich before deciding it tasted too much like ass to continue.

However, if this had happened just two days ago, I would have HELPED her to wipe her ass with it!

The Wendy’s on South Van Dorn? The CAPTIAL of suckage. I forgot about them, but alas, after half the order being f’ed up (and no straw — come on people — no FUCKING STRAW?!?!), I remembered that their record with me is 100 percent JACKED UP. And they gave me food poisoning last summer. At least they got the sammich right — this time. But the ice? When have I EVER asked for ice? Or, for that matter, a creeping rash. …

On iTunes: Bob Seger & Martina McBride, “Chances Are”

3 Responses to Apparently, I am growing

  1. Anonymous :

    LOL, you brought your “A” game on that one!!!! Loved it, been there, experienced it, and wanted to NUKE THE HELL OUT OF THE WRONG ORDER TAKING BASTARDS!!!!!!!!!

  2. A.McSholty :

    The McDonald’s on Route 1 near Braddock Place almost ALWAYS gets my order right, it is one of the few McDonald’s I will actually go to.

    The Wendy’s on Washington however…
    I went to their drive through one afternoon. The non-English speaking individual who took my order asked me cash or credit. Not thinking, I said credit because my head was else where.

    When I go to the window I explained my mistake and apologized this woman argued with me for 10 minutes that I HAD to use my credit card until I finally became so angry I shouted at her, “I CAME HERE TO ORDER FUCKING LUNCH NOT AN ARGUMENT, GET YOUR SUPERVISOR NOW IF YOU CAN’T FIGURE OUT TO FIX THIS, OTHERWISE I’M CALLING YOUR DISTRICT MANAGER!” A supervisor immedidately appeared and cheerfully handed me my food. I’ve never been back.

  3. Caterwauling » Blog Archive » Reader Poll Monday :

    […] ocker chick from the get-go. Have you ever had food poisoning? From what? I ate at the Wendy’s in Van Dorn Station about a year and a half ago and got deathly ill. I’d gotten the spicy […]