Let's (Seriously) Never Burger King

A couple of things happened recently that had me burning with rage, all at the Burger King. And I thought, "If those bastards want a war, they messed with the wrong person. I'll show them! I'll show them all!" and almost considered going on an all-out Internet crusade against the frame-broiled effers before realizing that's what a crazy person does. So instead I took a deep breath and I got real high and I screamed from the top of my lungs, "What's goin' on?!?!", all in the metaphorical sense of this blog.

1) A few weeks after my first complaint, BK sent me a "Have It Your Way" card, along with a very contrite and nice message about quality standard and how they're concerned and etc., etc., etc.

However, the card was a farce. $3 is not enough to have it my way, or indeed, any way. All I wanted was an acceptable and edible fish sandwich - a reasonable request which they have chosen to ignore - and then they gave me this slap in the face, as if to say, "Hey, asshole, we totally want your business but we'll send you a gift certificate that won't let you even buy the frakkin' sandwich. So give us 49 more cents!"

Seriously, it's not even a refund, it's a partial refund, for food that tastes like garbage can.

2) So I called them back. Yes, I did. And the lady seemed disinterested and explained, "Well, you never requested a refund. We just sent that card as a courtesy." Some courtesy! So I said I'd like a full refund and they have yet to send it to me.

3) Speaking of which, I am gonna call them RIGHT NOW to ask about it. So for the rest of this blog, I'll be on hold with pre-recorded pieces of Burger King trivia. (Nine minuters later...) OK, actually, that person who took my call was very nice and said she'd send in a special request to get that taken care of right away.

"How much of a refund were you expecting?" she asked.

"At LEAST seven dollars," I said.

4) So last night I pulled an all-nighter doing some crazy freelance captioning work (whoa, mama, I'm in the money because graveyard shift plus double time plus day-of bonus equals new Vespa, only not really). Now I used to do the graveyard shift when I first moved to NYC, and when I worked for the paparazzi company we would do a 24-hour shift, basically, for the Academy Awards and other big events, so it's a dance I've done before.

It's never easy. Your body goes through the change. And I felt all the old feelings, the loss of body temperature, the urge to cry in the restroom, the feeling that tomorrow we'll go swimming in some swank LA pool and this'll all be over, even the belief that "Geez, mom and dad are gonna wake up soon and go to work - how did I stay up all night playing Doomtown?" But it wasn't the worst thing I've ever had to do.

But when I went home, the one thing I wanted (since I hadn't eaten in 12 hours... nor used the bathroom) was a decent breakfast. And I love fast food breakfasts! I do, I admit it. They get me psyched. Mm, boy.

But all the local bagel places were still closed at 6:45 a.m. for some reason and McDonald's is too far away and this stupid Burger King is RIGHT BY MY HOUSE and I'm like, "Well, they can't screw up breakfast, can they?"

Yes, they can.

I should've ordered the pancakes or the French toast sticks, but I decided to try the chicken biscuit and the Croissan'wich, because why not, I am brave and need protein. I keep losing weight, no matter how hard I try, each week I weigh less and less, and maybe this will put some meat on my bones.

Chicken biscuit, while not actively bad, had the fun side effect of making orange juice taste like radioactive juice. And sometimes that's a part of breakfast, right? Actually, no. On its own, to be honest, I was fine with the chicken biscuit, but if it ruins the taste of liquids, SOMETHING IS WRONG. Right? I don't know, and should immediately go to KFC to see if it's a chicken thing.

As for the Croissan'wich... In theory, this should be delicious. I love a good bacon or sausage egg and cheese on a croissant. Croissants are good. Croissants plus breakfast stuffs should go together like peanut butter and jelly, but instead this was like some horrible mutation, the Tokka or Rahzar of breakfast sandwiches, if you will. Maybe the cheese was spoiled. It tasted wrong. Cursed. If there were an evil twin to cheese, this would be it. And I don't understand why, they are using processed cheese-flavored material so it shouldn't be all effed up, but it totally ruined the rest of the sandwich.

In a word: inedible.

And that's it, jerks. Seriously, never again.