McDonald’s

Inside each and every one of us there is a naughty little fat person. This naughty person reaches up into our brain and gives our hypothalamus a squeeze to let us know we are hungry. We appease the little guy by giving him food. Every once in a while he gets stressed with life and stomps around the entire limbic system causing us confusion. This confusion leads to an unbearable longing to gorge ourselves on McDonalds. Fight it we may but eventually we succumb to the lure of the golden arches.
We have all heard the stories, watched the film and felt sick after eating too many Big Macs, (four in one sitting is my record) but we still go back. McDonalds have stayed popular by opening trendy new stores (or renovating old ones), offering «healthy» salads that are dripping with dressing, and sponsoring health campaigns on TV.
Try as they might with this push to be healthy, we see the truth and so do they. We want burgers and fried potato. We want Big Macs lathered in cheese, and fries floundering in salt. We have all complained about McDonalds at some point. I’ve made up stories that there meat is from green space whales reared on Mars. Yet the burger joint we love to hate is still going strong.
My only gripe is that when I order a large portion of their lovely fries, I want my eyes to bulge at the sheer size of the offering. When I can clasp the paltry amount of skimpy, shaped potatoes in one hand, you are going to have a disappointed customer.
McDonalds is never going to blow us away, but you always know what you are going to get.