Oh Dear Me

I thought I was being so good. I had not been to any fast food joints in a couple of weeks. This morning, I had no milk left, therefore, no cereal, and I could not be late for work. Rather than searching fruitlessly through my house for something edible, I broke down and went to Mickey-D's for breaky. I always get the Breakfast Burritos, somehow my brain thinks they are healthier than anything else there, but in truth, I really doubt it. Anyway, I pull up to the window, hand the guy my debit card, and he starts to ask if I want my debit reciept. Then he looks up, recognizes me, and says he remembers that I never take it. (I don't.)

Oh d-d-d-dear. It's pretty sad when the people at McDonalds recognize you. (I suppose I should clarify that I don't know this guy from anywhere else. I would remember if I did. He is cute. A little too young maybe, but cute nonetheless.) I thought I was doing so good! No fast food in quite a while.

I suppose, in my defense, that I was there every day for about 3 weeks in February, because I was lazy, and for some reason, just did not give a shit that it was fast food. But still. Then he has a pretty good memory.

Is it just me? Or do you think it is sad when the peeps at McDs know you?

Oh dear.