jennings rampage

Don’t read: I am actually writing about fast food I ate.

I stopped off last night at a Burger King somewhere between Washington and Baltimore for food and gas. It was nearly 10pm, I hadn’t eaten since lunch, I was starving, I had suffered through terrible traffic around Fredericksburg, but I didn’t want to make two stops — this is typical for me.

So I’m feelingly slightly froggy, and decided to pass on the Whopper and the BK Stacker in favor of one of their special burgers, in this case the Loaded Steakhouse Burger. I could see from the menu placard that it had barbecue sauce, cheese, bacon, and little crispy onion things, and this seemed to me a delightful change of pace from the ordinary. I mean, who orders the special burger? Adventurous people, that’s who. It’s available for a limited time only.

What I could not see from the menu placard was that this burger also had mashed potatoes on it. MASHED POTATOES ON THE BURGER. Low quality, paste-like mashed potatoes. All the texture of a fast food burger, all the stickiness of mashed potatoes. Which is to say, I disagree with their decision to put the mashed potatoes on the burger.

Meaghan wanted to know if I ate the thing, and of course I ate the thing. C’mon. And it didn’t make me shit my pants or anything, so, bonus.

But this will be my excuse all week: don’t ask me, I’m the guy who ordered the burger with mashed potatoes on it.