Come on, man. I hope you’re joking, but if you aren’t, what the hell is White Castle supposed to say to this? “We’re so sorry to hear about your wallpaper! Here’s a coupon for 50% off your next bulk order of Extra Strength Pepto Bismol.”
And the pants I get, but how the hell did it get on the wall? People are astonishing.
I love how every sentence in this complaint ends with a question mark, as though she’s asking her readers if she’s recalling all the events correctly. DO NOT TRUST TO DELIVER ON TIME? A TREAT FOR THE STUDENTS BEING SO GOOD? I don’t know, lady. You’re the one making the complaint. On another note, you know the very foundations of the English language are in trouble when full grown adults think it’s appropriate to use creepy winking sad face emoticons and hashtagged run-on sentences to express their grievances with fast food companies. Someone tell this lady to calm down and put a shirt on, please.
Thanks for the tipoff, Bill. I’ll be sure to never buy fish sandwiches from Arby’s in Granite City, Illinois. Respect to Arby’s for at least attempting to direct this illiterate, caps lock-typing douchebag to their customer service team, who I doubt is any more equipped to accommodate such eloquent customer complaints as “GOT TWO LOUSEY FRESH FISH SANDWICHS TO NIGHT”
“Mom, where’s our Pizza Hut? We’re hungry.”
“What disappeared? The food? The order? You’re not being very clear.”
“Forget it. No dinner tonight, kids. Pizza Hut sucks ass anyway. Now go to bed or you’re not getting breakfast either.”
Yea, eff you McDonald’s. My relationship with your compressed chicken fetus meat is all give and no take. Like a normal girlfriend, I try to be reasonable and understanding, which is why I let the no milkshake thing slide. BUT NO CHICKEN MCNUGGETS ARE UN-SLIDABLE. You have CROSSED the line, Ronald McDonald, and taken it TOO FAR. We’re over. P.S. I cheated on you with Burger King, Wendy’s, AND White Castle.
(thanks to Christen Brandt for showing me this embarrassment to humanity)
So this is a thing now. You pay $10,010 for a wedding proposal package with a ring, limo service, flowers, photography, and fireworks… all capped off with a $10 dinner from Pizza Hut. To any women who have had their big night ruined by this tragic twist ending proposal package, I apologize on behalf of men everywhere. I genuinely cannot think of a more perfect way to send mixed messages to your potential Mrs. Right. (The two mixed messages being “I love you,” and “I hate your fat face, so here’s a slice of artificial synthetic processed fast food pizza and please don’t ever call me again.”)
And I don’t like how Twitter allows your bare ass cheeks to just pop up on my search results when I’m trying to find angry rants about McDonald’s. Unless that’s your face, which wouldn’t surprise me.
(thanks to community manager extraordinaire Joe Amodio for showing me this gem)
Wow. Christine really knows how to keep it classy. Who knew White Castle even took reservations? Don’t their burgers only take, like, 30 seconds to prepare anyway? This is so weird and wrong in so many ways, especially for what she describes as a three-year tradition. Because when I think “Valentine’s Day,” I think “romance.” And when I think “romance,” I think “taking your dad out on a Valentine’s Day dinner reservation to White Castle in Hackettown, New Jersey.”
The year is 2004. A tall man in an expensive suit and a young Harvard dropout sit across from one another in an enormous Manhattan corner office.
Venture Capitalist: Okay, so what is “The Wall,” and what does it add to Facebook?
Mark Zuckerberg: Well, you see… The Wall is a public or private social forum where users can communicate with each other—
Venture Capitalist: Communicate about what?
Mark Zuckerberg: I don’t know… pie?
Venture Capitalist: Pie?
Mark Zuckerberg: Yea, pie. And whether they like KFC… or think it better than Burger King. And what they ate for dinner that night.
Venture Capitalist: Uh, Facebook sounds really fascinating, but it’s just not what we’re looking for right now. Exit is on your left.
Mark Zuckerberg: Damn.