Leo gets it

I've developed a foodie crush of late. It's an embarrassing one. No, not as embarrassing as seeking pathetic attention at weekly work mornos by combining a savoury and sweet and forcing those in conversational distance to watch me double-team them into my mouth at the same time. That was embarrassing.

Last time that maneuver was let out for a play it was humus and a tim tam.

No ... no I have developed a food fetish for ... of all things ... McDonald's Hot Fudge Sundaes.

Why?! Dear gawd why HM?! You're pretty much self-diagnosed as having a milk protein intolerance that causes you to be like Mugatu when he has a foamy latte.

Well ... for some reason the soft-serve they use doesn't affect me as much. Maybe it's chemical concoction combination and dialed back the thing in diary that makes me farty?

I can eat one, or even two, in a sitting with a minimal effect.

So ... assuming that's the case, still, why? Why given your girth and your still plodding-walking each day - which is then ruined by that consumption by a good 400% of energy intake Vs expenditure in a single nosh of one of these fudgy efforts? (1)

Because ... right now ... right now in this space and at this time of my life ... right now ... I am enjoying them. Immensely. I get a massive serotonin spike from it and a cool sweet glow in my giant tum. They are delicious. I have even dreamed of them and, when in the drift from awake to sleep, sometimes they lazily tumble zero-g drift style across the velvet black of my eye-behinds.

Trouble is I've taken to getting a tray-worth at a time, which comfortably fits four, freezing the Sundaies then religiously devouring one - or yes, even two - each night when enjoying me-up-late time.

So yes it's embarrassing to order - like when you buy p0rn and you really want to leave and you're impatiently waiting for them to wrap it in the mandated brown paper bag (2). I like to pretend that I've been sent out on an ice-cream run for theWife and 2.1 kids back in my 224 square average Aussie home (3). Not that it's just for me ... for 1-3 sessions of quality alone numnum (4) time.

There's a McDonald's in a reasonable distance of my work on the way home. Tonight ... tonight I succumbed, risking a 15 minute trip with the tray on the passenger seat next to me sliding into the foot-well, as well as the matching of time Vs solidity and the varying clickage of the lid into the cup and a possible crack that could release a thin trickle of white dessert effluent.

Tonight I went to a nerd event. While I was there I kept thinking about the sundaes waiting for me. I prefer them frozen you see. The crunch of the soft-serve now not-soft as you slide the spoon in. The delight as it goes frozen to soft again. The sensation as you suck from the spoon.

So I got in, eager for the numnum fray. After de-bat time with theWife, I left her sleepy-sleeps and set up The Daily Show and got me my delicious treat.

Fuck.

Those fuckers.

I ordered Large ($3.15).

They'd given me Regular ($2.90; about 1/3 less).

All four ... Regular. I hadn't thought to check.

Yes, that's right.

I'd been fucked in the drive-thru (5).

However I have some potential get-back. For on the window of the drive-thru was the (translated to reality) 'Have you been fucked in the Drive-thru? Let us know' email address and I am pretty sure I remember it...

(1) I looked it up. A large hot fudge sundae is 502 calories. It takes about 1.5 kays to walk off the energy of 100 calories from memory. So this is 7.5 kays in a cup. Eep. For a sedentary office type then 2000 Calories is considered sensible in a day. So it's a 1/4 burst of daily energy needs. Double eep.
(2) Yes, that is true. In the Australian Capital Territory, where hard-core p0rn is legally sold in walk-off-the-street stores, when you purchase an item it has to be packaged so as not to cause potential offense to the other people moving in and out of the p0rn store from and to the car-park that exclusively services the needs of the p0rn-store's customers and staff.
(3) Yes, I looked those numbers up.
(4) It's my Bunga-Bunga. Only far less attractive young female sex workers in assorted costumery and completion thereof.
(5) Again, I have to mention it. Lethal Weapon 2 was my school year's seminal movie. Not The Breakfast Club, out around four years earlier and embraced by even us Ozzer kids who may not have fit the defined archetypes of the US school system but could still see ourselves in elements or blends of one or more anyway. No, Lethal Weapon 2. I blame the rich, awesome dialogue and best villain accent ever - Hollywood South African.