Last year, I went to a brand new Taco Bell in Tennessee. I ordered a breakfast burrito and asked for a cup of hot water as I fished a baggie full of tea bags out of my purse. My husband was ever so slightly embarrassed by this. Puh-leeze. He was taking me, his smart, classy wife, to a TACO BELL in TENNESSEE and I embarrassed HIM? Frankly, he should've been happy they don't serve a hard taco wrapped in a soft taco wrapped in divorce papers.
When it to comes to fast food, I'm like the worst friend or best roommate: never there and when I am there, I'm thinking, "Why am I here? When can I leave?"
So I sure as hell do not understand this trend of Pizza Hut perfume and the rest of it. It's a real thing, y'all.
Is this all just a good laugh? Or have we gotten so salt, fat, and sugar crazed that we want to BE fast food? Either way, I'm starting to feel as though we are going to hell in a fried chicken bucket and no one really cares.
Have an extra crispy weekend!