I LOVE MCDONALDS
by McDonalds Lover
I know that McDonalds is bad for me and I don’t care. Toxic, fatty, poisonous, whatever; my happy meal always tastes great and yes, I’ll have a girl toy with that please. Lately the fast-food joint has copped so much flack for their menu; they have succumbed to pressure and introduced the Healthy Choices menu. Boo healthy choices. Hold your head high McDonalds – I promise I don’t love you for your body – but for the comfort you consistently provide me.
I drive-thru or line up with the emos, construction workers, tired mums and excited kids frequently. It’s gotten to the point where I’m on first name basis with my friends at the Milton, Wintergarden and Albion McDonalds.
“The usual please Dave” I cheerfully sing every Wednesday at around 1pm.
“Coming right up Jess, how has your week been?” Dave sings back.
McDonalds is quick, cheap, easy and it tastes the same every time. So don’t bore me with your nutritional nonsense and healthy choices menu. I’m here for my Big Mac to go, and I would like fries with that please.
Thursday, 3 May 2007
Norwegian
Coming from the land of home-made bread and fish, the junk food culture in Australia feels suffocating. It seems impossible to get away from. Not only are you bombarded with huge posters inviting you to McDonalds for breakfast, the smell of deep fried food forces its way into your nostrils and comfortably stays there for an eternity; until you desperately inhale any other smell just to make it go away. Starting the day with a mc-muffin or a brekkie role from Hungry Jacks is just wrong!
On the other hand it’s easier and cheaper to get a Whopper from Hungry Jacks than a nutritious ham-sandwich, but who would surprise their mum with a meal from KFC on mother’s day? That’s the suggestion in the latest advert from KFC.
Rather than sucking me into the junk-junkies way of life, the hundreds of ads thrown at me every day makes me detest the calorie-boosted food even more.
Coming from the land of home-made bread and fish, the junk food culture in Australia feels suffocating. It seems impossible to get away from. Not only are you bombarded with huge posters inviting you to McDonalds for breakfast, the smell of deep fried food forces its way into your nostrils and comfortably stays there for an eternity; until you desperately inhale any other smell just to make it go away. Starting the day with a mc-muffin or a brekkie role from Hungry Jacks is just wrong!
On the other hand it’s easier and cheaper to get a Whopper from Hungry Jacks than a nutritious ham-sandwich, but who would surprise their mum with a meal from KFC on mother’s day? That’s the suggestion in the latest advert from KFC.
Rather than sucking me into the junk-junkies way of life, the hundreds of ads thrown at me every day makes me detest the calorie-boosted food even more.
Illness v Junk Food
Being desperately ill over the past few weeks has lead to two things. Well two more significantly than the rest, long hours of lazing on the coach in front of the TV and a mostly liquid diet. And now the constant viewing of junk food and take away advertisements and a severe lack of solids has made true of the saying desperate times call for desperate measures.
On Sunday night, after an hour of Desperate Housewives and therefore around 15 minutes intermittently of Heaven caramel chocolate ads, I cracked. I roused myself from the hovel of blankets and empty tea cups I’d spend all week hiding amongst, trudged to the local corner store and purchased two blocks of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate which I proceeded to gorge on in the hope of inducing a thoroughly toxic sugar coma.
On Monday an over load of KFC ads lead to a 20 minute phone call of pleading and despair, trying to convince a friend to drive the half hour distance between our houses to bring me a Zinger burger combo meal, purchased from the KFC around the corner from my home. After miserable failure I quickly dismissed the option of actually walking to buy it myself and settled for canned soup and toast. But this got me thinking about something I’ve often heard people complaining about, why don’t they deliver? I’d pay good money to have a bucket of their deliciously greasy deep fried chicken (and maybe a DVD or two) brought to me on demand.
Classes and doctors appointments on Tuesday meant my attention was dragged away from daytime made for TV movies and while out and about for the first time in quite a while I had the opportunity to duck into the supermarket. With full intentions of purchasing fresh fruits and vegetables, from the depths of my shopping basket were soon visible the colourful labels of double chocolate ice cream and Snakes Alive.
Unfinished...cos I'm sick ....and lazy. Sorry. Bessie.
On Sunday night, after an hour of Desperate Housewives and therefore around 15 minutes intermittently of Heaven caramel chocolate ads, I cracked. I roused myself from the hovel of blankets and empty tea cups I’d spend all week hiding amongst, trudged to the local corner store and purchased two blocks of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate which I proceeded to gorge on in the hope of inducing a thoroughly toxic sugar coma.
On Monday an over load of KFC ads lead to a 20 minute phone call of pleading and despair, trying to convince a friend to drive the half hour distance between our houses to bring me a Zinger burger combo meal, purchased from the KFC around the corner from my home. After miserable failure I quickly dismissed the option of actually walking to buy it myself and settled for canned soup and toast. But this got me thinking about something I’ve often heard people complaining about, why don’t they deliver? I’d pay good money to have a bucket of their deliciously greasy deep fried chicken (and maybe a DVD or two) brought to me on demand.
Classes and doctors appointments on Tuesday meant my attention was dragged away from daytime made for TV movies and while out and about for the first time in quite a while I had the opportunity to duck into the supermarket. With full intentions of purchasing fresh fruits and vegetables, from the depths of my shopping basket were soon visible the colourful labels of double chocolate ice cream and Snakes Alive.
Unfinished...cos I'm sick ....and lazy. Sorry. Bessie.
What is 'junk food' anyway?
What’s in the word ‘junk food’? What do we associate with the rubbish filled, useless debris that we fill our stomachs with or constantly dream about eating? The way I see it everybody has their own junk and the scale of what’s healthy and what’s rubbish differs significantly in everybody’s mind.
For a health freak, junk food might be an apricot muesli bar with a fine layer of chocolate on top which turns guilt into a 3hour workout at the gym. For a 4 year old boy, junk food is the dreamy desire of ice-cream and chocolate sprinkles at dessert. A teenager might classify a weekly trip to McDonalds as a junk food run but wouldn’t forfeit the Tim Tams and Cheezles in their lunchboxes. An airhostess would proclaim the mush served on Qantas as the worst rubbish you could eat yet secretly enjoy the greasy chicken curry.
But basically, the point is that junk food is all a state of mind. We all have those little treats stashed away that give us a few minutes of joy in our hectic lives. There is no right or wrong about how junky these foods are and it’s up to us when we eat them. So why not treat yourself every-so-often, whether it is every few weeks, days or even hours. I know I’m in the latter and I’m happier for it. Perhaps I’ll also be jollier and wobblier in a few years time, but I’ll come to that then…in the meantime I say enjoy!
by Grace Tobin
For a health freak, junk food might be an apricot muesli bar with a fine layer of chocolate on top which turns guilt into a 3hour workout at the gym. For a 4 year old boy, junk food is the dreamy desire of ice-cream and chocolate sprinkles at dessert. A teenager might classify a weekly trip to McDonalds as a junk food run but wouldn’t forfeit the Tim Tams and Cheezles in their lunchboxes. An airhostess would proclaim the mush served on Qantas as the worst rubbish you could eat yet secretly enjoy the greasy chicken curry.
But basically, the point is that junk food is all a state of mind. We all have those little treats stashed away that give us a few minutes of joy in our hectic lives. There is no right or wrong about how junky these foods are and it’s up to us when we eat them. So why not treat yourself every-so-often, whether it is every few weeks, days or even hours. I know I’m in the latter and I’m happier for it. Perhaps I’ll also be jollier and wobblier in a few years time, but I’ll come to that then…in the meantime I say enjoy!
by Grace Tobin
Claire and Junk Food
I still live at home so my mother and I have a deal regarding junk food. For every month that I do not eat junk food she will buy me a book to read. No matter what the book costs it is mine for the taking. But this is not as simple as it seems. My mum is the one who organises all the food in the house, she shops and then she cooks but when she wants something quick or does not want to cook she gets the keys and drives down the street. Now I am not complaining about eating what she buys but then again I loose out on my deal because I have taken part in this forbidden activity. Sure I may have a stack of books piling up that I have not read yet but still I like the fact that I have been given a challenge and have held on and not given up and most of all I like being rewarded.
Walking through the city is a nightmare. The feeling only gets worse as the clock ticks closer to lunchtime. Too many times I will find myself trapped amongst the tall buildings, which hem in the small space we call our city like a variable fortress, stomach growling, wondering if I can possible find something to eat with the scant amount of coinage that I always keep in my pockets. I try to think about the places where I can get a good, healthy meal.
Vietnamese soup? Too expensive. Japanese Curry? Eaten far too much of that in recent weeks. MYO? Why would I want to pay for the privilege of making my own sandwiches, when I can do that at home?
Creeping up on me is a feeling I know all too well. Stuck, tired, hungry, a small whisper of a voice starts to sing the praises of a lunchtime meal that I thought I had left far behind me.
But that does not stop the voice. It talks of crispy chicken skin that masks the fleshy, tasty, yet oil dripping meat, of burgers that go down so well that you happily accept the immediate stomach-sick sensation and of big, golden chips that blur the distinction between real potatoes and potatoe deb.
The next few moments are critical. If I do not hold onto my reason and common sense, I can find myself wandering in a delirium ending up in front of a counter manned by a pimply faced 12 year old.
Vietnamese soup? Too expensive. Japanese Curry? Eaten far too much of that in recent weeks. MYO? Why would I want to pay for the privilege of making my own sandwiches, when I can do that at home?
Creeping up on me is a feeling I know all too well. Stuck, tired, hungry, a small whisper of a voice starts to sing the praises of a lunchtime meal that I thought I had left far behind me.
But that does not stop the voice. It talks of crispy chicken skin that masks the fleshy, tasty, yet oil dripping meat, of burgers that go down so well that you happily accept the immediate stomach-sick sensation and of big, golden chips that blur the distinction between real potatoes and potatoe deb.
The next few moments are critical. If I do not hold onto my reason and common sense, I can find myself wandering in a delirium ending up in front of a counter manned by a pimply faced 12 year old.
Junk Food
I have not eaten Macca’s for the last three years and I have not had a can of non-diet soft drink since I was 15. I do however get the odd craving for chocolate, but I just have to use mind over matter and try hard to push away my cravings. I can’t be tempted to have even one piece because I know that if I do, it will all go downhill and I refuse to let myself feel depressed for the rest of the week. My only real junk food I succumb to which is like an addiction is gelati and the absolutely amazing frozen yoghurt from Oasis. Although they have fully become stingy with the serving sizes at Oasis and still charge $3.20 for a cup literally half the size. I am feeling so hungry thinking about gelati, my stomach is making gurgling noises…as soon as this tute is over I am going down to that coffee shop and getting a white chocolate gelati- A-M-A-Z-I-N-G stuff!!!
melissa
melissa
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