Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce...

I hate lunch. Well, not so much lunch itself, but trying to figure out what to eat for lunch. As you know, I'm not much of a cook. If it comes in a box or from the freezer, I am good to go. So, if leftovers are an option, then I can go that route. I can always take a can of soup and nuke it, but that gets real old, real fast. If no leftovers are to be had, then the dreaded decision must be made. Where do I eat today?

There definitely are a lot of restaurant choices in San Diego, but not so much in the area where I work. It's pretty much all industrial buildings so the nearest fast food joints are a bit of a jaunt. And keep in mind, I only get 30 minutes for lunch so I've got to choose wisely.

My usual choice is crappy ass McDonald's. I call it that because every other time I go there, it is crappy. It's the closest place so I go there more than I would like. Its only redeeming quality is the super nice drive thru workers. Not once have they messed up my order and they are always friendly. It's the cooks I've got a problem with. Dry burgers, over done filet-o-fish, under cooked fries. Yuk.

One time the boss and I thought that the KFC/Taco Bell combo sounded good. Huge mistake. The first nightmare is their parking lot, which is always bottlenecked. Even if I wanted to go in to order, there's no where to park and the drive thru line has the only available parking spaces blocked. So, drive thru it is. I order, pay, drive back to work. Only then do I discover that my boss' food is not in the bag! $%&$%&!!
I shovel my food, call them to complain and drive back to get her order. When I explain about the missing burrito, they tell me to pull ahead. As I'm driving up, I see a bag hanging out the window. What? It's my food. Not an apology, nothing. Just a burrito. Chick didn't even have the decency to say she was sorry. That's it! I'm never going there again.

Why I went to KFC in the first place is beyond me. CeCe and I went there, a long ass time ago. We wanted some chicken (duh) special they had going on and they were out of what we wanted, offered to substitute with something else. Sure, no problem. Figured that they would adjust the cost accordingly. Nope. Well, what's a couple bucks, right? So, to make everything all better, I order, for dessert, one of those yummy chocolate parfaits. You know, heaven in a cup. That smooth whip creamy sort of topping, the to die for chocolate and the crunchy graham cracker crust. My mouth was watering all the way home. As we unpacked the to go bags, I realized. THEY FORGOT MY HEAVEN!

And KFC isn't just right around the corner. It involves freeways, major roads and another 45 minutes of my time. The parfait is just not worth that much effort. I know, I should have at least called and complained. Why? So they could tell me to come back through the drive up and they would give me one. Or maybe, if I was lucky, they would send me a friggin coupon? The chicken just didn't taste the same that night. For dessert, I had to settle for stale cookies. What am I saying? There are never stale cookies in our house. Gone in two days, tops.

Back home, and this time I am for sure referring to good ol' WC, there are no chain restaurants. None, not a one. I do remember, though, at one time, there was a Taco Johns, tucked into the Kum N Go. It didn't last long. I don't know why but I sure do miss the potato oles with extra sour cream. My point is this. No chain restaurants, no drive thrus to muck up your order back home. When you get a to go order from the Twist, you can almost bet the farm that your order is correct, exactly how you want it, plus loads of extra napkins and condiments. I shouldn't have mentioned the Twist. Now I am dying, no joke, dying, for a Twistburger. Hey, Carolyn! I need an order to go. All the way to San Diego!

Yesterday, my coworker offered to make a Burger King run for us. Worked for me, since all I had was that dreaded can of chicken noodle soup to nuke. And the commercials for their new nuggets! Well, it took very little convincing. Bonus was he had a coupon and offered to pay. Yeah for me! I made sure to stress the sauce choices. Honey mustard AND sweet and sour. I'm sorry, but nuggets suck without sauce, don't you think?

I should have known. My luck with fast food restaurants totally sucks. Sure, the nuggets were there. All 20 of them. But the sauce. Oh my heck, where was the sauce? Suddenly those golden brown, bite sized nuggets had lost all of their appeal. I asked the coworker. He showed me the receipt. Right there, in black and white, were the sauces. On the order, people! Working the drive thru is not rocket science! I know. I've been there. AAGGHH!!

Moral of the story. Take the extra 15 seconds, hold the line up a bit and check the contents of your bag. Now why don't I take my own dang advice? From now on, from this day forward, that is exactly what I am going to do.

I think I'm gonna go to Wienerschnitzel tomorrow. They specialize in hot dogs. I just hope it doesn't look like this...

It's not mine!

The other day I mentioned some of the cool features of this blogging website. If you've forgotten what they are or haven't read that post yet, you will find it under "Writer's block already?" Basically, I'm a fanatic about the stats of my blog. How many page views I have by day, week, month and all time. Plus, who's reading it. I don't just mean the country, which is an awesome feature, but I also know how many of you are using Internet Explorer or Safari or any of the other web browsers. I've always been an IE fan myself although I recently upgraded to the newest version and hated it, so went back to the old one. Sometimes I'm not big on changes.

There is one feature on this site that I am not so crazy about and it reared its ugly head today. Only good thing about it is that it gave me a topic. Lame, I know but I'll take what I can get.

For those of you who have commented on my blogs, via this website, thank you thank you thank you. I love getting responses to what I've written. BUT, the set up for comments here is quite ridiculous. If you have a gmail/google account, you're good to go. If you have an ID with any of the following you are also ready to give me a pat on the back...LiveJournal, WordPress,TypePad, AIM, or OpenID. What the heck? I have no idea what any of those are. I'm going to use my power of intuition and assume, I know, I know, you know what happens when you assume, but I'm thinking they are some type of blogging ID. I suppose I could Google it. Or Bing it. Or Yahoo it. But I can't Ask Jeeves because he's retired.

So, what do you do if you want to leave a comment and you don't have a clue what any of those options are? You can sign in with your name and URL. Does that mean you have to have a boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, husband, partner, or dog with the name URL? That's what it says. Name/URL. Maybe it means your last name has to be URL. I'm just messing. I sort of know what URL stands for. Crap, now I am gonna have to Google something.

If you don't have an ID and your name isn't URL, you have to leave an annoymous comment. Now, don't get me wrong, I love getting comments, no matter what. But annonymous ones kinda freak me out. For one, they are annonymous. They could be from anybody. Duh. I am pretty sure that most of the people who read my blog (may I call you my readers?) are facebook peeps, friends and family who really only read it because they feel obligated or they are bored or they've read everybody else's crap. But, on the off chance that somebody reads this that is not one of my friends, a faceless person out there on the internet, from maybe Indonesia or Singapore (yes, Singapore made an appearance!), or even closer to home, then I have no idea who wrote the annonymous comment and it kinda drives me crazy!

Is there a point to this? Yes, there is. I got a comment today, annonymously of course, or what would be the point of writing this drivel? I was congratulated on the baby that I blogged about yesterday. Written in all caps. Immediately made me think of my dad, who types everything in caps. I know, it's easier, but I still feel, at my age, that he's shouting at me. Now, I know it wasn't my dad and I've figured out which comments are my boss' and CeCe's, so I'm puzzled. And the more I thought about it...

Holy crap! Maybe the reader was congratulating me thinking I had had a baby!! I knew I had to set the record straight. The baby from yesterday, that beautiful little boy, is not mine, although I would take him in a heartbeat. He is the son of my neice, so yeah, he's my great-nephew. I'm his great auntie. There! Don't we all feel better now? I know I do.

When I wrote that blog yesterday, can you even call it writing? All I did was copy and paste a poem I found on the internet, stole some pics of Easton from various family member's facebook pages and threw it together. I considered posting all the expected data. Name. Date. Weight. Length. Proud parents. Etc. But I liked the simplicity of the post, so after all was said and done, I left it at that. Not knowing I might be feeding the rumor mill back home. OMG! I hadn't thought of that until just now.

Hey, WC! It's not mine!