I am hungry. I was thinking about getting some Five Guys hamburgers. But then I remembered, they are terrible. I always regret eating them. At least the last five times I have gone to Five Guys I distinctly remember regretting it. I remember regretting it even driving to the place, and regretting it standing in line, just based on past regret. WTF is in those burgers?
If you get the trash bag full of fries it is even worse. It is an endurance event, eating what must be 8 whole potatoes, with about 20 cups of salt, all bathed in peanut oil. I can feel my heart struggling after I eat at Five Guys. Salt is not a flavor. It’s the same with every burger place. It doesn’t matter if its fast food or “gourmet” burgers. They’re all terrible. Get out of here with your “bed of lettuce.” I don’t just mean hamburgers are terrible for you, which they are, but also just tasteless, barely warm meat on soggy bread. When you are starving even garbage looks good. I would even rather go to a pho place and eat soup made by angry Mexicans who know the cameras are not hooked up to anything, and served by a humorless Vietnamese man who has probably seen more hacked limbs than a Quentin Tarantino movie. The kind of soup the menu explicitly informs me is made of “beef tripe” or whatever else is left of a cow after white people get what they want out of it at the butcher shop. Tripe, tail, heart, tendon, tongue, eye. Pho: the soup that stares back at you.
There needs to be a word in the English language that encapsulates the feeling of pre-dread, doing something knowing you will regret it, knowing in the logical part of your brain that this time is not going to be different, you are going to regret it just like every other time. And yet you still go, you still need that hamburger, that ephemeral heavy feeling in your stomach, now disgustingly termed a food baby, that says you got a big meal, at least. Quantity over quality.
I once saw a comparison of famous chain restaurant burgers and their calorie and sodium content. I think the winner had somewhere over 3,000 calories. For a single sandwich. For one person. Not including drinks, sides, condiments. Meanwhile in North Korea the government is arresting people for cannibalism. Of their children.
I went to a Five Guys once and saw a woman on a lunch break with her co-workers (more like cow-orkers, *snort Dilbert joke*). The co-workers were reasonably sized. The woman was fat. How fat was she? Each pant leg could easily fit one co-worker. Her pant size was wider than the four-setting tables. I was so disgusted I nearly vomited. I lost my appetite. I wanted to leave the restaurant. But I didn’t because I was hungry and needed food, any food, so I stayed and did what I came to do. I almost cried into the french fries. I got winded walking back to my car. I vowed, never again, yet when it’s late and you’ve had a couple drinks, and it starts looking good when you’re hungry, that’s when you make mistakes. No diet is strong enough to overcome that salty-sweet smell in the air near the burger place. You know exactly what awaits you yet you still go in. Humans will never learn.
This post is not about sex.