Disclaimer: I am not married. I don't have kids. Yes, to all outward appearances I seem to have very few responsibilities and/or demands on my time. However, (1) don't forget about inward appearances, and (2) this is my blog; I'll whinge if I want to.
Am I the only one... Actually, scratch that beginning because I probably am the only one. (Why doesn't Blogger have strikethrough text?) Anyway. Why does my fast food have to make demands on me? I mean, I'm getting fast food in the first place because I don't have the energy or the will or the something to make my own food. But the sauce packets at Taco Bell, they don't care. "Help! I don't know where I am, it's dark, and I can hear laughing" (or something like that). "Can I drive?" "Will you marry me?"
Honestly, I haven't been getting those last two questions lately. A few months ago, I started telling those sauce packets (yes, out loud. When have I ever pretended to be sane?) that I would let them drive or marry them for $5000 -- in advance and in cash. None of them ever took me up on the offer. And they (as a group) have obviously decided to go ask someone who might not have so many conditions to their agreements. Or possibly my agreement scared them, like the dickhead men in Unrepeatable.
The ones that really drive me up the wall though are the ones who ask, "Will you scratch my back?" Because I feel compelled to do so. (See above re: pretensions to sanity.) It's a small thing that they're asking. It's something I can do. Therefore, I feel obligated to do it. Even on days when the thought of one more request/demand, no matter how trivial, literally makes me cry. So I cry while scratching the back of the sauce packet, and then I have to worry about getting snot in my tacos.
Maybe I should just stick to McDonald's.
1 comment:
I understand the sauce packets at Arby's are a bit more reasonable, and on the whole more intelligent. I'd try there if I were you.
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