“Welcome to McDonalds.  Can I take your order?”  Said the guy behind the speaker.

“Yes, I’ll take a #2 meal with a sprite.  A 5-piece chicken strip meal with a water and a crispy chicken honey mustard wrap with a coke.  That’s it.  Thank you.”  Said me.

“Would you like fries with the crispy chicken wrap?”

“No thanks.”

“So, you would like a #3 meal…”

“Um, no.  Not a #3.  A #2.”

“Oh.  So you want a chicken wrap meal…”

“No, not a meal.  Just the wrap and a coke, no fries.”

“Oh, sorry.  So you want a 5-piece chicken strip meal with a water and a crispy chicken meal with a coke.  Will that be all?”

“No, I also would like the #2 meal.  With a sprite.”

(Am I being Punk’d?  I looked around for Ashton Kutcher.)

“Oh ok.  Your order comes to $15.74.  Please drive up to window #1.”

Seriously, considering the ordering process didn’t go so well, we were only missing a coke.  Like my New Year’s eve experience with bad ice, I should have known and just drove out of the parking lot.  Why do I do this to myself?  The signs were once again as strong as Popeye on 50 pounds of spinach.

I’m supposed to be on a diet anyway, right?  It looks like that just got bumped back to March.  Darn.

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