Personal Food Tip

If you're thinking about buying a delicious McDonald's mushroom and Swiss burger and saving it for tomorrow's lunch because you're trying to save money and extend the enjoyment of your McDonald's treat for an extra day, I would make this one, simple recommendation: don't.

McDonald's is never as good the next day.

Nerver.

Oh yeah, you THINK it's gonna keep until tomorrow. You've done it with other burgers in the past and it works out just fine. But there is something sinister about McDonald's. They put some ingredient in their food to prevent it from saving, forcing you to eat it when you buy it or suffer the consequences later. And if you want to enjoy your delicious McDonald's treat later, you'll have to buy more McDonald's later, because the word "enjoy" does not belong with the phrase "McDonald's treat later".

Day-old McDonald's buns have been used to pave driveways.
Day-old McDonald's hamburger patties get used as tires.

If you're anything like me, you say, "Fuck it! I paid for the shit! I'm eating the shit!"
If you're anything like me, you're stupid and need therapy.

I'm currently eating yesterday's McDonald's treat.
It's not a treat anymore.
I think I've given myself a cleft palate as the cheese has sliced a large chasm into the top of my mouth.
It is no longer supple cheese.
It is vengeful cheese.
"Why didn't you eat me last night when I was supple?!" the Cheese whisper-growls at me like it's a creature from a Dungeon and Dragons Monster Manual.
"I was trying to stretch my food budget," I whimper. "I tried to be wise with my food consumption and my spending habits. I'm sorry, it won't happen again!"
"Liar!" growls the angry, possessed Cheese. "You've said that before! You ALWAYS say 'it'll never happen again', and then you do it again! And then you expect me to be stupid and forget that you're a liar! What are you, some kind of Republican?!"

I blankly stare at the Cheese.
The Cheese returns my blank stare.

"Whatever," the Cheese shakes it off. "Political jokes stop scenes."
"You're tellin' me," I mutter under my breath to the audience, awkwardly sitting wondering how to respond to the random political non sequitur and ensuing insanity.
"Silence!" spits The Demon Cheese. "You talk too much and you type too much and you never get to your point and fuck you in your stuff-hole!"
And with that, The Barbarian Cheese slashes through my soft and hard palate, creating a cavern, exposing the underside of my brain to my curious tongue. You know, like when you get something stuck in your teeth and your tongue won't stop playing with it, and you eventually ruin your tongue muscles because it just won't stop digging around in your mouth for that whatever-it-is that's stuck...? It's like that, except it's my brain that my tongue won't stop playing with. My brain that's dripping into my mouth like some kind of cranial nasal drip. Dripping into my mouth from my Brain Cave. Brain Cave Drippings!!

...where was i...?

...i can't remember...

Hey, try that jalapeno cheddar chicken sandwich at McDonald's. It's really tasty if you're into that kind of thing.

And if you don't eat it right away, give it to somebody who will. Or suffer the Wrath of the Cheese, you will.