Against my better judgement, I was suckered into sampling one of McDonald's (ahem, corporate whore) new salads. I think the 67 kinds of lettuce and the REAL PAUL NEWMAN'S DRESSING -- which I don't see the big deal about, as anyone is free to purchase Newman's line of products -- really do provide that "edge" needed to thrive in the competitive market that is fast-food salads. I also managed to spill half my coke down my shirt while driving my salad back to my apartment.
There's nothing like having an impromptu wet T-shirt contest with yourself while stuck in traffic.
Now, I must clean my place for another round of partying, which starts in about six hours.
Liver, don't quit on me now...