Would You Like Fries With That?

Ronald McDonald is dead to me.

Yes, you heard me correctly. I'm breaking up with Ronny McD. We've had a good run -- been together for about 25 years. That's a long time and a lot of memories. But time comes when you gotta move on, you know. Breakups aren't easy, so I think that's why we need a clean split – just rip it off like a band-aid, quickly and painlessly.

Even though my heart told me it was time to part with Micky D's, I just didn't think it would really happen so soon. Today, when I spent 25 minutes in their drive through I should have seen the signs, turned away and left. But no, I waited. Waited like I have for so many years. Waited and waited.

Imagine my surprise when Novashellsha (swear to god, that was her name), refused to take my debit card.

"But why?" I asked. "When didn't you tell me 20 minutes ago when you took my order that you couldn't take my credit car?"

"I did."

Wrong answer, Novashellsha. Wrong fucking answer.

"No, no you didn't. Why isn't there a sign up? Why would you let people sit in that line during their lunch break and then refuse to serve them? Why, Novashellsha, why?"

This is when Javier the Manager appeared at the window. Speaking broken English.

"Sorry, miss, okay, but cards machine it is down. Sorry, miss. Move a head, please, okay, miss."

"No, Javier. Its not okay. Why didn't your girl Novashellsha tell me that you couldn't take my debit card when I was ordering? Why didn't you put a sign up? Huh? WHY?"

"Oh, good idea, miss. Have a NICE day. Pull ahead. People with cash waiting."

Dear baby Jesus in Heaven, it was the word nice. It made me snap. I totally lost my shit in the drive through line at McDonalds. And I'm too embarrassed to repeat what I said to old Javier. But I'm not too ashamed to paraphrase it. It went something like this:

KISS MY ASS AND LEARN ENGLISH, JAVIER. YOU HAVE NICE DAY, ASSHOLE.

As I was pulling away from the window, I heard Javier yell that I "am not welcome" back to that particular McDonalds. And he threatened to call the cops. Which is actually a surprise, considering there was an actual murder there a few weeks ago. You'd figure the manager would have the stones to stand up to an angry housewife? Right? No. Apparently not.

Thus, Ronald McDonald is dead to me. I think I'll miss the fries most.