I Love Food That Will Kill Me

I have not been shy about admitting I try strange food.  I find it my new mission in life here in Canada, ever since I was brave and stupid enough to try poutine.  So when I discover something I really love, I must share it.  And my friends, I have.  I have found the holy grail of crappy, bad for you, disgusting food that is so good I'm addicted.  Allow me, gentle readers, to introduce you to the McGangbang.

This is a thing of beauty.  And death.  And not mine, I eat mine before I can take a photo.

For those of you not in the know, there is a small subset of people who have taken it upon themselves to take pre-existing McDonalds food, combine the items, and create something new and frightening and possibly world-changing with them.  One is the Mc10:35, which is when you go to McDonalds at just the right time to get a McMuffin and a hamburger and eat them together as a single sandwich, as 10:35 is when they begin switching from sausages to hamburger patties.

But we are concerned with the McGangbang.  This is a complete Junior Chicken Sandwich inside an entire McDouble.  You make one of these jewels of humanity by ordering both and seperating the McDouble patties between the top and bottom bun and putting the chicken sandwich inside.  What you have, truthfully, is bliss.

Think of it this way.  Having your first McGangbang is like being left on a deserted island for three years with nothing but coconuts and spindly crabs to eat, and a cooler full of filet mignon and Godiva chocolates wash up on shore.  It's that good.  That world changing.

I've compiled a short list with which to state my case, and make everyone go out and get one of these marvels of industry.  Granted, most of these are just my opinion, but hell, it's my blog.

1.  The McGangbang is cheap.
All you need do to have this beautiful meal is order a McDouble and a Junior Chicken Sandwich from the value menu.  To get something this bad for you, you'd have to go spend five bucks or more at KFC for a Doubledown.  But even with Canadian pricing, the McGangbang is only 2.78.  When we can spend over thirty dollars for fast food with Mike involved, this is not something to be ignored.

The McGangbang costs exactly this much in the funny Canadian Monopoly-style money.  I refuse your two dollar coin!

2.  It should be disgusting, and it's delicious.
There is nothing about a chicken sandwich inside a double cheeseburger all from McDonalds that says it should taste good.  At all.  It says logically that it should be vomit-inducing.  Instead, this is one of the best fast food items I've ever tasted.  I honestly could get this once a week and be okay with it. 
3.  The McGangbang has a soporific effect.
No lie.  If you've got insomnia, get a McGangbang.  After eating one, you're going to feel like you just ran the New York Marathon while using barbituates, and will promptly get in a three hour nap on the couch while the cat uses you as a pillow.  And you will love it.
4.  You now belong to the McGangbang club.
Very few people are in on the idea that you can make new sandwiches out of the original McDonalds menu.  But you know.  You're in on it.  You are part of the a quiet little club that does unspeakable things that actually harms nobody.  Good job.
5.  The joy of ordering.
There is something about ordering the componants for a McGangbang that makes a little thrill of happiness go through you.  Because at some point you'll go up to the second window on the drivethru, and part of you is always hoping that you've found another kindred spirit in the McDonalds worker.  That you'll get a wink or a nod, some sign that whoever is handing you the brown paper bag of death knows what is going on with you.  And that alone is enough to make you less regretful when you're done.

I was going to add Oreos, but who am I kidding, Oreos are perfectly healthy for you.

So yeah, it's probably a bad idea to eat these more than semi-occasionally.  But it doesn't change that I am a woman obsessed.  Husband is going to try one with me on Friday.  Yes, I am spreading this infection.  Muah ha ha ha ha.

I Friggin' Love How Dumb I Am

All of us are guilty of doing something foolish.  Something not good for us or perhaps something not good for others.  My most recent sin in this arena comes from the fact that I have a tendency to purchase food that I hear is excellent and I then discover is disgusting in every possible way.  And then despite having taken a bite and/or drink and finding it the most repugnant thing since the Republican party, I KEEP EATING IT.

The horror that dare not speak its name is the McDonalds Shamrock Shake.  I have had one of these every year since they came out, and you would think I would learn my lesson.  This thing is not a food product.  It is like someone added water to toothpaste and poured it in a cup and threw it in the freezer for a couple of hours.  It has the texture of melted cake frosting, and looks like a leprechaun took a shit in a McDonalds and they scooped it up for the dessert menu.

It looks like Slimer jerked off into a cup...

Yet, knowing all of this, I pulled into the drive through the second I heard that they were back until St. Patrick's Day, a day known for poor decisions, and ordered a medium.  I paid my money and felt a shiver of anticipation that one can only feel when about to poison themselves willingly as I pulled forward and received that demonic paper cup and wrapped straw.

I couldn't even wait to get out of the parking lot before ripping the straw open and plunging it home.  That first drink was like the tears of an angel that had been dipped in creme de menth booze and set aflame with the fires of sex and happy bunnies.  Yeah, it was that good.  Unfortunately, there was a second drink.

The second drink of any Shamrock Shake has a steep drop off, from heavenly bunny fire to something between listening to Kanye West talk about how he's the voice of a generation and taking sandpaper impregnated with rock salt to a wound still full of broken glass.  It is at this point that I should have stopped drinking.

I'm not particularly proud to admit that I did not.

This accurately measures how friggin' dumb I am.

Instead, I just kept drinking it until I got home, and then sent it on the counter as I came inside, half finished, mocking me there as I put away my purse and coat.  I stared at it for a few minutes, then turned and went to do something else.  This is where the biggest mistake comes in. 

There is a large amount of shame in this next part.  When I returned to the kitchen a few hours later...I took another drink.  This time, it was not cold, nor trying to resemble ice cream, nor freshly turned.  It was like drinking something that had been sitting in the draft from Satan's asshole, and I gagged right into the sink. 

I spent the rest of the night swearing that I was going to die, that I was going to puke up my own intestines, and that perhaps, just perhaps, I had opened a doorway to Hell through which creatures of insanity-causing horror were going to emerge, having sacrificed myself on some unknown alter built into our married quarters kitchen.  Point is, I poured the rest of it down the sink.

Yep, Bosch painted this after drinking a Shamrock Shake.

So did I learn a lesson?  Probably not.  I admit, I will probably continue to get things like Shamrock Shakes and aloe vera juice and organic grain cereal that looks like something that I might have scooped out of the cat's litter box.  Why?  Because I'm stupid, that's why.

Obviously.