Actually, I've read the first three quarters of Fast Food Nation two or three times, which basically counts as reading the whole book at least once. For some reason I can't take the plunge and make it through the end. And Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, I read about half way, until I felt like poking myself in the eyeball with a dull pencil and using an asparagus spear to knock Barbara Kingsolver off her high horse. Omnivore's Dilemma, I gave up after about 90 pages, after asking myself for the thirtieth time why Barbara Kingsolver was re-writing a more boring version of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle under the pseudonym of Michael Pollan. So.
Be that what it may, I'm fairly educated about food. We eat mostly organic. We buy local when we can, and we know that whole grains are good and white bread is evil (although we love a good baguette and damn it, a little evil is okay sometimes). I spent much of my college career living with nutrition majors. I was actually enrolled in culinary school at one point, although dropped out before starting because of an opportunity I couldn't resist at work. So.
I should know better.
And I do. But that doesn't stop me.
I have a fast food habit.
Perhaps it's because I have two babies and often the only way I'm guaranteed a meal is if someone literally throws it at me through my car window. Perhaps it's because they wrap the food in irrisistable and crinkly wax paper. Perhaps it's because Dairy Queen gives me my meal in an inviting little box all my own. Perhaps.
I'm not proud of my habit. But YUM! Fake meat flavor! Salt! Grease!
Why do I divulge these secrets? Usually it's because I have no filter, and the overwhelming urge to make frequent confessionals. This time, there's more of a purpose. I'm hoping that this particular post may catch the eye of some sort of fast food researcher who frequents small but excessively important blogs like my own for consumer feedback and will promptly take my complaints and suggestions back to the source and guarantee my continued addiction. So.
I'm going to start with Dunkin' Donuts, because you have seriously pissed me off. To start with? Your donuts are not delicious. Krispy Kreme is where it's at. You cannot touch them. However, Krispy Kreme does not find my part of the country appealing, apparently, and I cannot travel to Florida every time I want a donut. So please. PLEASE. Make me a good donut.
And then there's the issue of consistency. I would like to clarify for you that the reason I purchase food from you is that I assume you can make it better or faster than I can do myself. You're right on in the faster department. But better? That's a crap shoot. When I order a small, french vanilla iced coffee with extra cream and extra sugar, that's what I want. Every time. (Although total nix on that cream right now -dairy- but for future reference, this is important). So why is it that half the time, I get a cup of cream with an inch of grainy sugar at the bottom and a splash of coffee, and other times, I get a cup of ice with a shot of coffee and a hint of sugar, and other times I get an almost black cup of lukewarm but sweet coffee? I feel like I need to crawl through the drivethrough window and make the damn thing myself. I want consistency!
And lastly. This is a large bone to pick. Why, oh why, has my most local Dunkin' Donuts recently hired what I can only surmise to be one of the Singing Quiznos Rodents? With the scary teeth? Who has on two separate occasions responded to my attempts to order at the little microphone box with the rude prompt to "just drive up" and then berated me for having a car that makes a noise like "nails on a chalk board"???? Okay, Dunkin' Donuts. I get it. I don't drive a nice car. But I want my effing crappy donut and inconsistent coffee, okay? So shut up, quit whining about that noise (and NO, Quiznos creature, I don't know why my car makes that noise and I don't like it any better than you do) and give me my damn food.
And then there's Wendy's. Just who do you think you are, Dave Thomas? Don't think I haven't noticed that you've raised your prices. And that you no longer serve "Biggie" items. And that your value menu is crap. And no more Dr. Pepper? You're not that good. Especially without the Dr. Pepper. I'm shifting my loyalties.
To Dairy Queen. Ironic, because I am not allowed to eat dairy. But as soon as I can, Dairy Queen, I'm going to go visit and go buck wild on the real meat of your menu. Until then, however, I am totally tickled silly that you give me my food in a box. And that your burgers are so much more burger-y than everyone else's. And your fries, oh. Wow and yummyliciuos-ness.
So yeah. I have a fast food habit.