Tag Archives: mcdonalds

Here is my advice. (Spoiler: it is great)

I am 27 years old today, a fact I am inordinately proud of. At this landmark birthday (I’m just going to keep saying it until people start agreeing with me), it behoves me to dispense some wisdom. Here it is:

1. Do not ask for butter on your sandwiches unless you like your butter in huge, undigestible lumps, clinging valiantly onto the surface of your bread. The only person who will dispense butter as you personally like it is yourself. This also applies to mayonnaise and branson pickle. Repeat after me: condiments are a private affair. Do not out-source them.

2. If you want to feel better about yourself, do not go to the gym. There are always impossibly beautiful people in the gym. I suggest McDonalds. That way, you are not surrounded by supermodels and you have some chips.

3. Sometimes, people don’t like you. This is irritating, and it is tempting to ‘encourage’ them to see the error of their ways by contacting them incessantly. Do not.

4. If you are an ‘early-morning person’ stay away from the rest of us. Perhaps you could use the extra time to make us breakfast, and serve it to us in a respectful, unsmiling silence. Basically, even if you ‘love’ the morning, try as hard as possible to act as though you don’t. Trust me, it’ll be much easier to survive.

5. Smile at strangers.

But not the scary-looking ones who are talking to themselves, or the very old ones, who might think you are about to attack them. Only smile at young, attractive people. I think what I’m saying is: flirt. (But not with oldies. Or, despite this photo- animals).

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My Lady Gaga worries

Lady Gaga is to be featured on an episode of The Simpsons. I have often wondered how I, personally, would cope with being Lady Gaga. ‘Would you come on tour with me?’ I asked an ex-boyfriend. He was confused, because we were at McDonalds and I had not explained that in this scenario, I was Lady Gaga.

I soon realised that I would become very weary with someone on my tour bus who needed to have everything explained to them. Also, he was eating all my chips. ‘I think I will get a tour boyfriend,’ I told him abruptly. He was less concerned about this than I would have hoped. ‘Why are you not concerned about this?’ I asked him shrilly.

(McDonalds is an excellent setting for a furious row. Its yellow and red colour scheme really helps to inflame things, and the Happy Meal toys are perfect for lobbing at other people’s heads). ‘Well,’ He explained carefully. ‘You’re not Lady Gaga.’

He was right, but that hasn’t stopped me. Here are some of the things I worry about (when I am Lady Gaga):

1. My The Simpsons character will be bested by Lisa Simpson.

2. On tour, I will come onto the tour bus late, be forced to sleep on the top bunk, roll around and fall out.

3. Just before I go on stage, I will have the same urgent need to go to the loo as one gets before long movies and exams, and my back-up dancers will start the dance routine without me. Then when I finally get on stage, I’ll be horribly confused.

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Overheard Everywhere

‘What’s your favourite song?’ my friend asked me this weekend. ‘I’m not sure, but you do remember which song is to be played at my funeral, don’t you?’ She nodded, and I thought about how desolate and well-attended my funeral will be. I’ve just read the Steve Jobs’ eulogy, given by his sister at his memorial service, and I thought today I’d talk about iPhone apps. (It  was that or make predictions about my own funeral, which might be a little too much for a Monday).

There’s an iPhone app called ‘Overheard Everywhere’. It is filled with the idiotic things people say in public places. I love it. Today, there are three women sitting on the sofas opposite me wearing too many layers and an amazing assortment of oversized rings. They seem to have forgotten they are in a coffee house, because they are discussing the most intimate details of their lives. The middle lady is leaving her job. She needs, and I quote, a ‘job where they understand that sometimes I will come in, and be having a bad day. I mean, I’ll be at work, but I won’t really be doing much, and I’ll need lots of support.’ Her friends nod sympathetically. What kind of monster would make a person work when they didn’t feel like it. ‘You need to look after yourself’, her friend says sensibly. ‘I mean, in the interview, I told them. I said, this is me. Take it or leave it.’ I’m nodding along. (This is not wise when eavesdropping, but I am enthralled). Her friends continue to give her completely reasonable advice. ‘And have you spoken to Sandra about supported leaving?’ I can tell from their snide tone that Sandra is their current, unimpressive boss. I imagine she doesn’t care if people are having a bad day and don’t want to work. I am sure she will have given much thought to helping her former employee leave her job in a ‘supported manner’. ‘It’s just very important to be supported when you are leaving a job. Or else you could have an existential crisis.’ Finally, I’ve got my perfect Overheard Everywhere quote.

Possibly my favourite, or at least most comforting iPhone app is called FML. (***k my life). It is filled with very short stories about terrible things that have happened to other people. It’s the perfect dose of Schadenfreude, neatly tucked inside my trusty iPhone. In the mornings I often open the app just to check for such gems as, ‘today my mother met me at the airport. I greeted her excitedly because I had been away all summer. She said, ‘it’s been so quiet since you’ve been away. Can we please keep it like that?’

The worst app I have been vigorously persuaded (bullied) into using is the McDonalds app. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it was certainly more than the blurry map graffitied with disproportionately large golden arches. What the app really taught me was that there are lots of McDonalds in London. Which is pleasing, but hardly life-enhancing. The very best iPhone apps embody the very best of what Steve Jobs brought to Apple- beautiful, helpful, interesting products.

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