I had my 6th birthday at McDonald’s. It was kind of a big deal although I’m pretty sure all we did was eat and wear hats. Regardless, it was the shit. The 70’s and 80’s were The Golden Ages of The Golden Arches. Ronald even had an entourage. Grimace, The Hamburglar, Mayor McCheese, and some Fry Guys were The Trans Fat Pack. McDonald’s was all about people deserving a break and by break they meant stuffing your fat face. Then things started to change. The clown got greedy. McDonald’s went from 2 all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun to you are now being considered for “The Biggest Loser.” As a rule, anything in life that’s “Super Sized” is probably going to hurt. What goes in must come out and Ronald’s Revenge is swift and mighty.
McDonald’s has been backpedaling for years. It’s a little shady to build a house in order to help children while also fattening them up. I’ve read that story before and it ends with a red headed clown being pushed into a scalding fat vat. I’m not fooled by the Apple Dippers and Yogurt Parfait. Who the fuck goes in for a double QPC but ends up with an Apple dipper? As a parent in a country of Oompa Loompa’s, letting your child bask in the glow of fast food heaven is a no-no. If CrackDonald’s is what you crave you gotta go on the DL.
A few weeks ago my son dropped his organic nut free lunch on the strep infested classroom floor. He wasn’t happy and I could foresee my day ending with Sake infused tears so I whispered, “I’ll take you to McDonald’s.” It was as if he had a mega-phone affixed to his tiny mouth. He announced to everyone within a 35 mile radius he was going to “McDONALD’S.” He also shared he was gonna have 2 cheeseburgers and fries just like he always does. Always does???? Time stood still. That little Assjacket put The Scarlet Arches on me. I swear one mom covered her child’s ears. I know some were thankful it wasn’t their kid outing them.
Fast Food is bad for you but it’s called a “Happy Meal” for a reason. Don’t “THEY” say everything in moderation? At least I’m honest. I hate those people who try to rationalize by saying they only crushed a 20 piece because they were wasted or on the road. Yeah, your arteries totally know not to clog because you ate a Big Mac with a cheese burger chaser at a rest stop. I’m starting a secret underground society of moms who occasionally worship those big floppy clown shoes. Who will join me?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
An Open Letter To Oprah
Dear Oprah,
I heard you’re retiring. I gotta be honest with you I have mixed feelings about this. It seems hasty to me. Don’t you think it’s a little irresponsible to inspire a pant suited army and simply walk away? I’d feel more settled if you would appoint a successor, but not one like that hairless testicle, Dr. Phil. You were dead on with Mhemet Oz though. He eye fucked me into getting a colonoscopy. I hope you tapped that before you gave him his own show. Anyway, you’ve given me a lot of advice and information over the years so I thought I’d do the same.
Since this is your last year, I suggest you go balls out! Really make it count. Why not do a show about boobs, topless? Or announce to the audience like only you can, “Everyone gets their own RABBIT! VIBRATOR!” Your staff can toss them into the audience while you continually shout, “YOU GET A VIBRATOR AND YOU GET A VIBRATOR!” What if you were to conduct an interview with a convicted pedophile and before he answers every question, karate chop him in the larynx?
Now, don’t get your La Perla’s in a bunch, but you my friend are the original Ponzi. I’m a cynical bitch but time and again I’ve picked up what you were putting down. I bought “The Secret”. I sat in on a virtual classroom, naked. I made sure a lingerie technician jiggled my tits into the correct sized bra. I personally interrogated every neighbor in a 15 mile radius to see if they were ever convicted of a sex crime. Lover, if you told me I had to shit on a land mine in order to lose weight, I would have done it. You’ve got skills though. As soon as I realized you were all smoke and mirrors you had already moved me onto "eating, loving and praying."
You didn’t invent the wheel with the “Ah-Ha moment”, Oprah. Smoke a joint and you’ll be “ah-ha’ing” out every orifice. And honestly, what's with the Vision Boards? I made a vision board on the inside of my high school locker. I had many pictures of Ralph Macchio and I never got to fuck him. Do you honestly believe if I put a picture of your Santa Barbara property on my board I’ll get it? Does anyone put up a picture of a bathroom attendant? We all want what you got sister. We want your books and your cashmere underwear. Personally, I hold you responsible for the auditory rape I endured when you gave everyone in your audience a car.
However, no one does a surprise or a make-over like you. You have great guests and smart tips. Thanks to you I distrust pretty much anyone walking remotely close to me in a parking garage. I’ve cried more times than I care to admit watching you, Oprah. FYI, no one should cry at 4:00PM. It’s not like I’m done with my day and can melt into the couch and snot into tissues for hours. Most of us still have after school activities and if we’re lucky a night out. I can’t shrug the harsh stuff off which leads me to ask, how can you? You’re a stronger woman than I am if you can fall asleep at night knowing what you know.
You’ve taken a lot of shots over the years, Oprah. Many from my husband who thinks you act like, “your shit tastes like ice cream.” Personally I think you shit gold bullion. I have to hand it to you though, you made it happen. Dibs on being one of your dogs in the next life.
Love,
Me
I heard you’re retiring. I gotta be honest with you I have mixed feelings about this. It seems hasty to me. Don’t you think it’s a little irresponsible to inspire a pant suited army and simply walk away? I’d feel more settled if you would appoint a successor, but not one like that hairless testicle, Dr. Phil. You were dead on with Mhemet Oz though. He eye fucked me into getting a colonoscopy. I hope you tapped that before you gave him his own show. Anyway, you’ve given me a lot of advice and information over the years so I thought I’d do the same.
Since this is your last year, I suggest you go balls out! Really make it count. Why not do a show about boobs, topless? Or announce to the audience like only you can, “Everyone gets their own RABBIT! VIBRATOR!” Your staff can toss them into the audience while you continually shout, “YOU GET A VIBRATOR AND YOU GET A VIBRATOR!” What if you were to conduct an interview with a convicted pedophile and before he answers every question, karate chop him in the larynx?
Now, don’t get your La Perla’s in a bunch, but you my friend are the original Ponzi. I’m a cynical bitch but time and again I’ve picked up what you were putting down. I bought “The Secret”. I sat in on a virtual classroom, naked. I made sure a lingerie technician jiggled my tits into the correct sized bra. I personally interrogated every neighbor in a 15 mile radius to see if they were ever convicted of a sex crime. Lover, if you told me I had to shit on a land mine in order to lose weight, I would have done it. You’ve got skills though. As soon as I realized you were all smoke and mirrors you had already moved me onto "eating, loving and praying."
You didn’t invent the wheel with the “Ah-Ha moment”, Oprah. Smoke a joint and you’ll be “ah-ha’ing” out every orifice. And honestly, what's with the Vision Boards? I made a vision board on the inside of my high school locker. I had many pictures of Ralph Macchio and I never got to fuck him. Do you honestly believe if I put a picture of your Santa Barbara property on my board I’ll get it? Does anyone put up a picture of a bathroom attendant? We all want what you got sister. We want your books and your cashmere underwear. Personally, I hold you responsible for the auditory rape I endured when you gave everyone in your audience a car.
However, no one does a surprise or a make-over like you. You have great guests and smart tips. Thanks to you I distrust pretty much anyone walking remotely close to me in a parking garage. I’ve cried more times than I care to admit watching you, Oprah. FYI, no one should cry at 4:00PM. It’s not like I’m done with my day and can melt into the couch and snot into tissues for hours. Most of us still have after school activities and if we’re lucky a night out. I can’t shrug the harsh stuff off which leads me to ask, how can you? You’re a stronger woman than I am if you can fall asleep at night knowing what you know.
You’ve taken a lot of shots over the years, Oprah. Many from my husband who thinks you act like, “your shit tastes like ice cream.” Personally I think you shit gold bullion. I have to hand it to you though, you made it happen. Dibs on being one of your dogs in the next life.
Love,
Me
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