Mack's Lounge in Taiwan

Man fuck McDonald's! I am sorry. I know I have been pretty good to abstain from cursing on this blogue but I can't help saying it as I sit in this chair feeling like an old miserable piece of crap. I think I would enjoy the feeling of eating pesticide more than McDonald's. Just in case you didn't know, I just ate some today and feel like some kind of farm animal took a giant shit down my throat and now the toxin is sitting there, cooking in the bowels of my insides just waiting to pass through more vital organs and thus pollute my body more.

That place sucks so bad and yet I eat it on average about once a week. What it is about that giant arch that seems so irresistable to the hungry wonderer. I mean back home people eat it because it is a quick and easy alternative to going to a real restaurant where you are treated like a person. The line at McDonalds makes you feel like you are in the same assebly line that the cow you are about to eat was in. I just can't stand the damn turd palace.

The experience of eating this garbage food is only made worse by the fact that I can't even communicate what the hell I want to eat. I mean you really feel like a piece of shit when you're too stupid to even order the manure food that you are about to regret eating. I go there because I consider it an alternative to going to some Taiwanese restaurant where I don't know what to order because it is all displayed in crazy character form. So instead I go into the dirt shack and hold out four fingers like some idiot who just fell down a flight of stairs and I yell "COKE." I couldn't even figure out how to get a Sprite today because they call it something different in Chinese. I am worthless.

Why do I put myself in these humiliating positions where I am made the brain dead pupil of Docter "works the cash register at Mcdonalds" who has to guess from my stupid looking facial expressions if I would like a small or a large fry. I don't want any of that crap....well... ok gimme a big mac.

Somehow when you eat at these shaddy belt popping establishments you always spill something on yourself too. That really pisses me off. Not only am I eating food that is one step away from being pig feed, but I just dumped some of this shit onto myself as if I was some clumsy horse sloppily eating out of a goddamn trough. What a terrible place.

They don't even have red box DVD rental or Dr. Pepper at the Mack's lounge here in Taiwan which means I really am going there just to eat there gutter slop food.

You know what's funny? Dunkle eats there probably like three times a week and I honestly think he likes it. Whenever I come home to that dank, cancer giving smell of old soggy hamburger buns in my house I know that Dunkle has just finished "fat boyin' it up," as we call this miserable experience. Why is it that we can't resist the urge to go get a food hangover from the shit shack? We can't fight the urge. It's like a disease that makes you want a disease.

Everytime I leave the restaurant I bow my head in embarrassment as if I was walking out of some low grade scum bag porno theatre. "Mothers hide your children! That fatass just crammed his face with a mud burger. You can tell because it's plastered all over his wrinkly dirty old shirt. What a regect!"

The Mack's by our house is the funniest because if you don't want to make the "high intensity" walk up the stairs to where the seating is, you can simply take the one table on the first foor. There is literally one single solitary table next to the order station where you can often amuse yourself by checking out the fat old doofus sticking fries up his nose because he can't get them in fast enough with his already full trash can mouth. That table is when reaching the lowest level isn't enough and you just have to admit that your life is that horrible and you are the reason for all the wars and disease exist in the world. They should call it the "Sweatpants Only" section.

So while a lot of food here is very good there still does exist that sickening tope tiled oil leaking ball of melanoma that is Mcdonalds. And yet many others here call it the American Embassy. I hope that one day I will be able to fully renounce that terrible place once and for all, but for now I will just have to accept that sometimes I am so desperate for a hambuger that go into the restaurant that makes me feel like Jabba the hut's alcoholic inbred half brother.