You are the harbinger of doom. You excite me just to bring me down. You promise ecstasy yet deliver pain. Supposedly, McDonald's has dedicated fryers. Supposedly, I should not have this stabbing feeling in my side. Like knives. And swords. And other sharp objects. However, I now know the truth. McDonald's, our long-standing relationship is officially over.
At least I still have one more guilty pleasure in my life.
Crisp. Refreshing. Coca Cola.
And I swear I was not paid to say that.
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