And now, ladies and gentlemen, may I present a post based on nothing, with entirely no aim or final destination! Hold on…it’s going to be a bumpy ride!
Our first stop finds us pausing at our friendly neighborhood McDonald’s. On Sunday, I eagerly visited the fast food giant for one reason and one reason only: the McRib sandwich.
The McRib sandwich is not a traditional item on McDonald’s menu. It only makes an appearance once in a blue moon (great, now I want a beer…), so you gotta get it while the gettin’s good. However, the gettin’s wasn’t so good on Sunday.
Watch out, she's gonna blow!
Nay, gentle reader…this is NOT the crime scene to a Law and Order: Special Victims Unit episode. However, it’s clear that something did indeed die here. When I anxiously opened the box to waft the first fragrant odors of my barbequey prize, my eyes were met with the remains of a Civil War re-enactment that went terribly wrong. BBQ sauce oozing along the entire bottom of the container, and some of it even had tried to escape. Instead of saying “Mmmm, I can’t wait to dig in,” all I could think was “Can we get some gauze over here?!? We’ve gotta apply pressure to the wound!”
You’ll also note that the McRib patty itself was also trying to escape the steamy confines of the sandwich bum. It was almost like a strapping 6’3” young man had been forced to sleep in a child’s bunk bed, legs dangling over the side in awkward glory.
By the time I “attempted” to finish my sandwich, my hands were covered in BBQ sauce, making me feel more like I had just done an autopsy on NCIS. Apparently, McDonald’s is fully aware of the hazards their sandwich brings with it. The Big Mac does not require clean-up assistance. Nor the hulking Big & Tasty, whose burger patty takes up a whole zip code. But the McRib? It comes complete with your very own moist towelette:
Clean up, aisle 4!
(The sad thing is…I actually needed two of these…)
Miracle on 32nd Street 