Then I realized that I wasn't completely sure what "nemesis" meant so I looked it up. Turns out it was the ideal word for what I meant to say. Ready? Ima hit-chou wit some knowledge.
nem⋅e⋅sis
/ˈnɛm
–noun, plural –ses
- something that a person cannot conquer, achieve, etc.
- an opponent or rival whom a person cannot best or overcome.
- (initial capital letter
- an agent or act of retribution or punishment
It always goes the same way. I do something I think is great and then I think I deserve a treat. Now, depending on how my life is going at a given point, the greatness bar can be pretty low. Like, today, I got my oil changed like I've been meaning to do - reward! or I really wanted to punt Oscar into next Tuesday and instead I just locked him in the bathroom- yay for me!
Tonight I ran 5 miles IN A ROW. Right? Please. Obviously I went to McDonalds after that feat.
I always go through the drive thru (due to my shame) and ask for a cheese burger, a small fry and a small vanilla shake. That's really all I ever want/feel like I need. Turns out, it is the exact recipe for my distress. I of course know this when I order it but somehow, I always believe that this time will be different. This time, I am going to feel awesome, justified, proud, rewarded, cool, sexy, satisfied and great.
One might say, if one were nerdy enough to research definition numero 3 wherein Nemesis is the goddess of divine retribution, that my McDonalds induced misery may be punishment for succumbing to my hubristc belief in my own entitlement and ability to overcome the forces of nature.
Between the time it takes me to drive from the ordering speaker to the window where I pay, I have usually reached Gollum levels of pathetic/desperate/aggressive. That is, if Gollum were trying to play it like he didn't like... NEED the ring. Basically I am unpleasant when I get up there. The lady tells me the price, I hand her my card. I see her sizing me up, judging me, taking forever to just hand me my damn shake. I start having an imaginary conversation with her where I defend my menu selection and tell her about the great thing I just did and how I deserve this food. This woman always takes forever. I begin wondering if she can't read/add or if she is just screwing with me by going so slow. I think maybe she is bitter and, sensing my desperation, uses her small amount of power in this world to wreak havoc on my emotions. In the imaginary conversation I'm still having, I begin to refer to myself in the third person. That's right, you tricksy little hobbit. Give Jessica the milkshake and she won't leap trough the window and tear it from your dumb slow hands.
After an hour and a half she hands me my food and probably says something like "have a nice night." I really have no idea what she says though because "At Last" by Etta James starts playing in my mind and between that and the sound I'm making with my straw as I immediately suck down 3/4 of my milkshake, I can hear very little else.
I've finished my fries and half of my cheese burger before I drive out of the parking lot and by the time I get home, I've only got that last quarter of my milkshake. And then there I lie, on my bed feeling nauseated and crampy, ruing the day I tasted my first Happy Meal.
And as I lay here this time, I recall a lifetime of defeat to this wretched force called McDonalds. I remember, as a 4-year-old getting my head stuck between the bars of the Hamburglar's jailhouse slide on the McDonalds playground. Panicked, I screamed and cried for my mommy who was unable to get me out. I should have realized that I was dealing with something genuinely formidable right then when even my all-knowing, all-powerful mother could not save me. The manager had to come out and they were just about to call the firedepartment when the Beast decided to let me go, only to torment me for years to come.
McDonalds always wins. That is the lesson here. And yet as I lay here in misery, I take the hand that's not still clutching my milkshake and I make a fist. I raise this fist towards the ceiling- the heavens really. And I shake it. It's a motion that is one part "I would have succeeded if it weren't for those meddling kids and their stupid dog" and one part "After all, tomorrow is another day..."
I'd like to say that this is the end of the story but I think it's clear at this point that McDonalds' has it out for me. But you know what? They're on my list too...
*insert dramatic/epic music + fade to black*
1 comment:
Remember that time driving home from visiting Steph in DC we stopped at Burger King and both automatically hid the bags when we went to the full serve gas pumps?
-Anna
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