Yet Another Reason Why Junk Food Is Bad For You

I suppose it's my fault for allowing my children (and myself) to eat McDonald's. In Kansas City, ordering at Mickey D's went something like this:

Me: I'd like a number three, no pickles, no onions, with diet Coke.
Immigrant making sure her children finish college: Okay. Anything else?

Then I would order for the children and Hot Guy in much the same fashion. Then I would bring the correct order home and we would eat. But here in Stuck-Up, McDonald's isn't even allowed to have a drive-through - you have to take your junk-eating ass right inside to get your crack (er, food, Hot Guy and I just call it crack because it's addictive, isn't it?). So today I ventured in, because Ironflower wanted it and Hubby wanted it and who am I to argue?

Me: I'd like a number three, no pickles, no onions, with a diet Coke.

Teenager: You want a number three meal?
(For those of you who don't frequent McDonald's, the only numbers on the menu are meals. There are numbers for NOTHING else.)

Me: Yes, no pickles or onions and a diet Coke.

Teenager working for drug money: You don't want pickles or onions?

Me: That's right. No pickles or onions and I want my drink to be Diet Coke.

Teenager who inhaled last week's paycheck before coming to work: What do you want to drink?

Me: DIET COKE.

Teenager: Do you want anything else?

Me: A number nine with Hi-C to drink. (when the Happy Meal toys are crappy and the kids not present we have them split a grown up meal because we're cheap like that)

Teenager whose bong is his best friend: Do you want the Chicken McNugget meal? (See above about what numbers mean at McDonald's)

Me: That's what a number nine is.

Teenager who may have had brain damage before discovering weed: So what do you want to drink?

Me: Hi-C.

Teenager: Do you want anything else?

Me: An Angus Deluxe Meal with a diet Coke.

Teenager who must have been very, very stoned: You want an Angus Deluxe?

Me: I want the Angus Deluxe MEAL.

Teenager who must have been more stoned than I got in Amsterdam: So you want fries and a drink?

Me (pointing to a picture of an Angus Deluxe Meal): I want an Angus Deluxe, fries and a Diet Coke.

Teenager who must have been using all the brain cells he has left to stand upright: What do you want to drink?

Me: Diet Coke. And nothing else. (there was a HUGE line of people behind me at this point and I was starting to feel bad for them)

Teenager who does not have a future in fast food but whose ability to smoke copious amounts of weed will impress his future college roommates: Do you want anything else?

Me: NO!

Then he had to get the order. I had to suggest a drink holder. And bags for the food. It took him about ten minutes to assemble the order, even though all the food was ready. I think I saw him use his fingers to count out the fries.

As I turned to leave I noticed that the entire line of people had moved to the other cashier's register. They all smirked at me.