Apparently our headlines at Nonstop Karate are inversely proportionate to how pointless our posts are (I do not have charts to prove this. It’s just psuedo-science, y’all).
Godmas forced me to back to my first home of The Midwest, a land where dogs roam free but babies can sit out on the porch all night and get nothing more than an appreciation for the safety of their mother’s tit. If you’ve never ventured out past the coast you were born in, you might not be aware of the multitude of fast food options available. In Indiana, high school kids can visit Steak N’ Shake all night, eating string fries and drinking one cup of coffee because it’s either that or run through the local Wal-Mart. Those don’t exist in California, a state who’s closest relation would be the illustrious In-N-Out (Hey! They both use “N” in their names!). Another continental divide is Hardee’s/Carl’s Jr, owned by the same parent company and both sporting that stupid smiling star.
I ate from both in the span of hours. And sat in a cramped plane in between them. Sorry girl-next-to-me-that-I-sweated-on. Read the rest of this entry