Saturday, July 16, 2011

McDonald's in 1978 - friend or foe? FOE. Definitely foe.

Our sweet and kind friend Jenn of Fox in the City has written this adorable post as the final entry to our "Fun Food" series. 

Not to say that if you decide to submit a Fun Food Story at a later date we won't accept it, because we totally will.  Just to say that next week Miss Sarcasm In Action will be designing a brand new writing prompt for y'all. 

You should look forward to that - Miss Sarcasm is FRIGGIN NUTS. 

Also, congrats to the lucky, cheesy winner of our first contest: CARMEN over at A Life Less Ordinary!!  Once she has all of her prizes, Miss Sarcasm is hoping she'll be willing to get all dressed up in the shirt and pants, fill the zombie water bottle with vodka, and go snap pics of herself in front of her local Walmart.  Drunk. 

And lastly, upcoming next week will be some new Spreadable Cheese for you to waste your time looking at. 

Have a great weekend!  It's going to be at least 115 degrees here all weekend, so if I don't see you again, it's because I melted in my backyard.  Good fertilizer for the lawn at least. 

- Marianna Annadanna


Well hello my fellow cheese loving people! The fine ladies here were looking for posts about food. This is NOT a post about food. Sorry to disappoint.

What this is, is a post about a rather embarrassing turn of events that occurred at a restaurant. The star of this embarrassing turn of events is moi and, truth be told, I hated hearing about this story for many, many years. What can I say, when I blog about my daughter being ever so sensitive she totally comes by it honestly.

So let us begin by setting the stage. It is the year 1978 and visiting the local McDonald’s are three kids aged 2, 3 and 5. Along with said kids is the father of the 2 year old, who happens to be the uncle of the other two, and their grandfather. So, two adults and three kids . . . the ratio is pretty good for a public outing.

The younger of the men is at the counter ordering ice cream for the kidlets when things begin to go downhill rather quickly. The eldest child, who shall be referred to as Mr. 5, began to make use of the Grimace hand puppet he had gotten in his Happy Meal. By use I mean attack any and all passersby with it.

Miss 3 decides to get into the action. Now for the first few years of her life, Miss 3 would often vomit up whatever it was she had eaten. It didn’t matter what it was or where it was, it was coming back up. Needless to say, it started coming back up . . . all over the floor. By this time, grandpa was anxiously awaiting the return of dad so that he could take over the mess.

Finally, Miss 2 put the cherry on the top of this shit sundae. She stood on the table and bellowed at the top of her lungs . . . “I have to go pooh”. The intent was get inform her dad of this condition but the method actually ended up informing the entire restaurant.

That was it, grandpa was done. He swore he would never again step foot into a McDonald’s . . . and he never did, even when I worked there and I needed him to pick me up . . . he would just wait in the parking lot for me to come out.

So there is my food related but not so much story. I do apologise for the fact that there is no mention of cheese . . . perhaps next time.

Oh wait, I also just realized that I almost left you without saying which character I was . . . I was the one in the midst of potty training, Miss 2.