McDonalds, the fabric of America.

The old school McGangBang

The old school McGangBang

I recently saw McDonald’s reviews on Yelp.

First of all, McDonalds is not a restaurant. For it to be a restaurant it must serve food, and while I do not know what is in a chicken nugget, I sure as fuck know it isn’t chicken. I’ve had chicken before, nice try McDonald’s.

These are actual reviews:

“I saw a lady in her pajamas, wearing snorkeling goggles, and holding a small child sized doll. I didn’t know what to make of it.” – Denis, Pasadena CA

“Sausage McMuffin was disappointing. It could very well be that my eating standards have gotten more frou frou. But I think I could have made a better breakfast sandwich than this if I had the time.” -Jon, Bellevue WA

” I rather be here than some suburban boring restaurant where my life passes me by and don’t feel a bit alive.” -Jaime, Azusa CA

“When being told to meet at “the sketchy ass McDonald’s” is all that’s needed to establish location it might speak poorly of your business reputation.” -Sal, Seattle WA

The words: rape, lunatic, lockdown, and save yourself, were a frequent theme in the reviews.

Stop blaming rap music, meth, and liberals for America’s decline. THIS is what’s wrong. Some reviewers encourage people to walk to another McDonalds a few blocks away for, and I fucking quote, “quality¬†industrial chicken sandwich or hamburger”. Chances are that if you are at a McDonalds, you are not a fan of walking, or quality.


The fat lady inside of me.


Gluttony Hoe

I love booze and drugs as much as the next asshole, but my greatest love, my undisputedly greatest indulgence is and will always be: food.

There is nothing I won’t eat, at least once. Blood sausages, hooves, worms, day old McDonalds, snails, brains, tongues, etc. (There is a semen joke there, but I will leave that up to you.)

I am not your typical fat girl. For one, I’m not fat. Standing 5’5 tall and weighing 105 pounds, I look like your normal everyday run-of-the-mill bitch, or a very poor fat bitch. Not many people would appreciate at first glance the depths of my love for all things edible. But rest assure, there is a happy fat girl living inside of me. ¬†She is also kind of a slutty bitch, and is not above, maybe one day, using butter as lube.

Food could easily be a deadly weakness for me. My passion for real butter is such that I have eaten half a tub with crackers as if it was cheese. I ate nothing but cherry tomatoes and mozzarella cheese for 2 days, which left me with a beautiful shade of red on my skin and the softest shit I’ve ever taken.

If someone wanted to kill me it would require no more than baking me brownies laced with ricin and leaving them in a basket on my front door. That’s it. I wouldn’t hesitate to eat the shit out of them. I would post a photo of me eating porch brownies on Facebook. I should either invest in a royal food taster, or work as one.