So, I don't really eat fast food.  I can count the number of times I have eaten at McDonalds in the past 7 years.  It's the same amount of times I want to throw up at myself for doing it.  *Each time I did, it was essentially an emergency.  And by emergency I mean we were traveling out of state and there were no other places to eat and I had already eaten both of my shoes, so it was a matter of survival.  Still, I  regretted it each and every time.  

The shoes, though, I stand by that decision to this day.

My husband is a very different story.  He hates his arteries and wants to McStuff them with as much puréed cattle tendon as possible.  I try, and I have made a great deal of headway... now, he seldom eats fast food, but despite all my efforts, he still craves fries after watching movies like   Supersize Me.

He and his friend, David - who is also our pastor - stood in line at McDonalds one morning at approximately 4:30 am in an attempt to earn a coupon for one free breakfast sandwich a week for a full year.  (These are my spiritual leaders ladies and gentlemen... this may help some of you understand my limitations as a person.)    McLawsuit decided not to extend the offer past one year, because no patron would survive past the year on that diet anyways.   

Now, my position on McDonalds has not changed.  The poor quality of their food, their horrifying treatment of animals, their love for little bits of bone in their burgers... it all repulses me.  

But we do have that coupon...

I know, I know... How could I??  

But the sandwich is free!  And I have kindnesses to uphold!  So, here's how it all went down...

We went in and used the coupon to get the sandwich with the purpose of giving it to the guy on 104 always holding a "Hungry & Homeless" sign.  In a moment of weakness, I almost caved and got one too, because I don't care what anyone says, their breakfast sandwiches are actually delicious.  But then Tom reminded me of scenes from countless documentaries I've seen, and I couldn't do it.  But, I did get a hashbrown, citing "you can't mistreat a potato" as my rationale.

I couldn't have been more wrong.  

The grossly mistreated potato had been cooked in rancid oil.  It was seriously one of the most disgusting things I ever spat into a bag. I just threw up in my mouth from reliving it.

Once again, Tom and I are in different camps here.  He did get himself a sandwich and enjoyed it thoroughly.  While I was spitting and yelling, " We're all dying of Egg McMuffin!" he was deciding which sandwich to keep, and which to give. 

"Who needs the egg more, me or the homeless guy?" 

Tom suggested we go in and complain, but admitted that they would probably just give us coupons for more free food.  When I explained that I didn't want more of their food, but that what I wanted was those years of my life back... we decided to just go find our guy.