Seven Dollars and Thirty Eight Cents

I have a few vices in life, some which I can’t mention aloud, and then there’s the French Fry thing.  I LOVE Fries, it is my one and only motivation in life to do Cardio.  NO! I don’t care if the person serving them has no teeth, no manicure and a tattoo of Lucifer on their wrist, I want the fries in spite of the Hepatitis risk.

Strolling through the Del Mar Fair I spot this most interesting little European Fry stand and they have quite the selection.  I don’t mind the quarter of a mile long line made up of plus size women that appear to be in a hurry, man this line is volatile. I want the Shoe String Garlic and Chives deal, my mouth waters as the angry lady next to me “accidently” elbows me in right rib cage…she is serious about this line and getting to those fries.

After almost 30 minutes and the regaining of my wind, I finally make it to the front and in a kindergarten fashion can say “it’s my turn”  I’m  ready to order this little container of heaven.  “One order of the shoestring fries with Chives and Garlic please”.  She kindly responds,  “That will be Seven Dollars and Thirty Eight Cents.”  Surely, she can’t be talking to me so I clarify, “Sorry, but I am only having one order.” And she reiterates, “Yes and that is going to be Seven Dollars and Thirty Eight Cents“.

I stop and think to myself , am going to allow the obese bitch within to disregard the broke bitch without and pay seven fucking dollars for some potatoes that a dingy broad from abroad fried in yesterday’s grease???  Needless to say I just ate some fries that I peeled and made myself that cost $1.49 for the bag and they tasted every bit of Seven Dollars and Thirty Eight Cents!

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