Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Torturing Myself.

Want to know what torture is?

I'll tell you what it isn't.
  • It isn't exercising twice a day for the last six weeks.
  • It isn't eating leafy greens and veggies until I'm a walking repository of Beta-Carotene.
  • It isn't sweating so much that you feel like your middle name should be "estuary".
Torture is taking your kids through the drive-thru at McDonald's (because they begged you), getting them hotcakes, and having to breathe in that smell all the way home. I almost broke down and wept on the way back.

I'll admit - they aren't great hotcakes. Ever since they went to the frozen-microwave-and-serve variety the taste just hasn't been the same. But the smell - Oh God, the smell. If a woman wants to be ravished, (at least by me) just dab a McDonald's hotcake behind each ear and watch me go to town. It smells like vanilla cake mixed with a dab of heaven.

Needless to say, I sat at the far end of the table when my kids were eating.

If the U.S. really wanted to get tough with the detainees in Guantanamo, they'd have a couple dozen microwaves going full tilt, just outside the wire. That, coupled with some well placed fans, would be the best not-really-torture-but-it's-torture-really that you could get.

Better than the waterboarding they've been doing, right?


1 comment:

  1. I was disappointed to learn the hotcakes were made in some third-world province and then shipped over to be nuked before serving.

    Point to the one thing McDonalds can make which aren't better elsewhere. They've sunk a long way from Calling the Turn and Smiley Hotcakes. Tarnished my memories.

    I actually think that a restaurant, built around food-prep procedure from when McDonalds didn't suck, would seriously be Teh Win. Call it .. White Castle.