Fast food menus out of control...

America has become fixated on the development of healthy conscious citizens. There is a plethora of organic foods on shelves in the local grocery stores. People want to trim the fat; they want to live to one hundred. Who would want to do that? I think eighty years in this great country is sufficient. Case closed. Bury my ass.

I continue to support my fast food neighbors. Their hamburgers remain tasty and greasy as ever. Their tacos are fat as hell and spicy to boot. I chow them down at least a couple of times a week. I like to keep things real. I often drench them in mustard and catsup. I let the juices run down my chin while I am watching a football game. I like to cheer like an animal in between bites of my tasty treat.

My problems with fast food are not related to calorie intake. The pickle I find myself in happens at the drive through. The menus are so fucking large, and I have no idea what to order. I take my time and read through all the options to make sure I really get the best selection. My indecision baffles the cars behind me, and the honking then commences. They want me to move my ass as fast as possible. I linger. I talk sweet pleasantries to the voice on the speaker. I ask about calorific intake, and then change my mind. I change it again. I stutter. I mumble. I fuck it all up and then drop the change when she opens the window to take my coins. I take my burrito smothered in cheese and sit in traffic. I can't wait to get it home and devour it. The next time I check out the menu online to write down my selections. My mouth waters while I look at the internet menu. I am the organic mother fucker.