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The essence of my



The essence of my heart-wrenching story is lost on you MadMan. It’s not that I didn’t eat a McRib that day, it is that I was misled and made out to be a fool by believing that I could order a McRib by believing the giant advertisement in the McDonalds. They made a mockery out of this delicous sammich, justice and big cardboard signs, which I can no longer trust.
If I wanted to make my own food, I would. But I chose not to. Not that I wouldn’t be any good at it, but I would have to travel to the local commissary, grab a shopping cart that has other peoples sneezes and poops. I don’t want to walk down and through every aisle looking for the items I forget to put on my list that I forgot to write. Then I have to wait in the forever line, with my big cart of stuff that everybody keeps eyeballing with their stupid faces. Travel back to my starting point, walk up THREE flights of teh stairs omg suxxors!!!1 dick reference. Unpack all the things I paid for and place them in their respective assigned spots. Then I would have to immediately find the items in which I want to assemble for a meal, gather them, unpackage the items and then assemble it. 5 years later, I have half a sammich because I forgot to get bread. WTF. So, Long reply back to you, I just wanted a pre-made McRib that I can instanlty eat as soon as I pay for it right there in the McDonald’s. I reject your image link of an un-assembled poor not-a-McRib because you have not faced the indignity that I have had to endure and overcome.