I admit it: I am an addict. The McRib is back, folks. I have been such a good boy, too. Today I snuck off to McDonald's to get me one. I pulled up to the drive-thru talkbox and was so excited. I even called it a "McRibwich". I felt just like my buddy Homer Simpson, haaaaahhgurgle *drool*.
I got through to that magical second window and the Mexican guy was real nice and prompt, but I couldn't understand what he said other than, "You have meal and Diet Coke?" Well, I heard "McRib". I pulled away and parked in a nearby trucker lot--the prostitutes weren't out, too cold. Sheesh! I'm not like that, okay?
So, I get into my bag of goodies and find out that they gave me a Big Mac! Nothing wrong with that, I love 'em. But, that was not the fix I needed. I mean, if I am going to get fat it is going to be death by McRibwich! So, I went back in and hooped and hollered. I am a reasonable guy until you cross my animalistic needs. I mean, this sandwich is like a shrunk down version of that rack of ribs that tipped over Fred Flinstone's car. Don't they understand this? Well, if they didn't before, they sure as hell know now.
I got my meal gratis. I am special. I think I want a t-shirt to commemorate this moment. In fact, just like The Simpsons, I want to become a McRibwichead and follow its farewell tour throughout the nation. I might even get a Corvette out of this deal. I must have the last one!
Anybody want to fix up an old VW bus and come along with me?
3 years ago