Did you know your night can go from Great to Crap in the time it takes to open the refrigerator door? Well, it can.
I was having a great night off. First I wake up with my wonderful Rudy dream lingering in my head, then I get like 50 pages of the fanzine proofed, then I go to see Live Free or Die Hard, which completely rocked in an over-the-top, unbelievable, but pulse-poundingly fun way. I give it one Warhead, although it might have deserved two, except I was enjoying my annual cherry slushie and so didn't need another Warhead. We'll give it one just because it was such a fun ride.
So then I get home and spend almost two hours chatting with some pals, one of whom, I found out tonight, actually reads my blog (dude, that makes like what, seven people reading my blog now? Eight? Two of whom are my parents and one of whom is my husband....). And I have a great night of relaxing watching lined up: three eps of Remington Steele and four of Wanted, Dead or Alive. A night full of Pierce Brosnan and Steve McQueen -- what could be better?
Then I went to make lunch. When I left the theater, I considered running across town to Taco Bell and picking up a couple of supreme Beef Gorditas to have for lunch later, as I've had a hankering for them for a few days. But I said, "No, there are tortillas left from that weird turkey taco thing we had for supper a few nights ago. I'll just make a microwave quesadilla and that ear of corn Orance* said he left for me, and save myself the money and the gas." Right. So I open the fridge around 1:30am, and... no tortillas!
Fine. Orance had a few extra days off from work this week, so he probably had them with the leftover weird turkey taco stuff. I get out my ear of corn, shuck it, and put it in the microwave. I can just nuke a couple of my beloved Ball Park franks and have them on slices of bread for the rest of my lunch.
Except there are no Ball Parks in my freezer. There are no hot dogs of any kind in there. I distinctly remember there being several packages of Ball Parks a few months ago, and I'm quite sure I've eat maybe 8 hot dogs since then. Ball Parks are my special hot dogs, they're the only ones I really like, so we get several packages when they're on sale and just buy cheaper hot dogs for Orance whenever he needs them, because he's not picky about hot dogs. But it seems someone who is not me has eaten all my hot dogs.
So I have one ear of corn. And sure, there's other food in the house, but I wanted something kind of salty and meaty. It's one in the morning, though, so Taco Bell is long closed. Fine. I know that McDonald's' drive-thru is open 24 hours, so I will get the car out of the garage again and drive all the way across town and get a Big Mac. I haven't had a Big Mac in a long time, and it sounds quite tasty. And I can try one of those new cold coffees they have now.
Except when I get to McD's, they inform me that they only make six particular value meals between midnight and six am. And the Big Mac is not one of them. Which to me seems very very stupid, like Taco Bell not selling tacos at night, or Burger King not serving Whoppers.
So I get a Quarter Pounder value meal with coffee instead of soda, except they charge me extra for the coffee, but by then I'm too pissed off to care. I don't get a supreme Beef Gordita, or a quesadilla, or a Ball Park hot dog, or a Big Mac. I get a Quarter Pounder, which is probably cold by now, and an over-charged-for coffee.
And when I get home, there is a big, ugly, spiky spider on the living room ceiling right above where I usually sit when I watch movies by myself, so I have to kill it with a fly swatter at great peril to life, limb, and the light fixture nearby.
The only good parts about this story are that the hazelnut iced coffee is really great and they're salting their fries again at McD's. And I got a much better ratio of limp fries to regular fries than normal.
*"Orance" being what I call Cowboy when I'm miffed with him.