Fleeting? I think not. This love will last forever.

Fast food is like a free clinic: it brings people together on their worst days.

Yes, I’m talking about those days where you wake up wearing that oh-so-delightful outfit from the night before, with your hair totally disheveled, and your pores oozing the sweet smell of alcohol. You sit there, re-examining your life and think – only fatty goodness can save me now.

Once you muster the strength to actually leave the house (changing your clothes, putting on a bra, brushing your teeth, or applying deodorant are optional) the journey to grease heaven seems like a lifetime…but it’s worth it…it’s ALWAYS worth it.

We recently had one of these special days. It was the day after Kathy and Anna’s sweet shindig that brought the most amazing people together in a big way, **sidenote – I am so glad I brought my roomie. I think the highlight of my night, besides the 45 min cig break, would have to be the epic party foul by one Vincent. Sure, he didn’t spill the ENTIRE liter of cola…but I think throwing up off the balcony while putting himself in “time out” is too priceless for words. We drink a lot…and some people just can’t take it (wink!).

Anyway, our night of complete debauchery meant only one thing in the morning – STRUGGS. We awoke, craving burgers, fries, ranch, and fucking DP. There’s only one place that soothes our souls when we’re in need of deliciousness: Jack in the Box. Even though Burger King is a block away, it’s never an option. Eating Burger King is like is like bad sex – messy and unsatisfying. Once “JBox” is uttered, there’s nothing else to say because it’s that glorious.

Ordering is always an issue – “should I get the entire right side of the menu, or should I just keep it to the usual? Curly fries are obvious…but should I get the small, medium, or large meal? I’m really hungry, but I don’t think I need that much soda…fuck it, I’ll get the large.” PS – the so-called “large” drink is diabetes in a cup…do we really need that much soda Jack? C’mon. After I ordered, a wave of panic came over me. “Is everyone going to get their food before me?” Then I remembered that I ordered first. HA! Bitches. I hear my number called, and I release a sigh of relief…as I walk to the counter to claim my prize, I look back at empty space in front of my friends…suckazzz!

Once we all had our food, we looked at each other, similar to the way Harold and Kumar did when they finally reached White Castle. There’s only one thing to do once your meal is in front of you – stuff your face and rock out to the sick sounds of KOIT.

The best part about Jack in the Box is the fact that it’s a watering hole for the hungover. Every time we’re there, we undoubtedly know at least 35% of the people…and in no way is that depressing. It reminds me of the caf at USF…you stumble in on a Sat or Sun afternoon, order tots or fries (depending on the hour), and the fattest beverage imaginable. Soon enough, all your friends arrive, and you find yourself posting for at least 2 hours as you reenact the night before. After the epic night at the girls’ apt – you better believe we saw familiar faces…and a face from the past (whaddup rando LvHS encounter!!).

2 hours, rando run-ins, multiple serenades from artists such as BSB, Natalie Imbruglia, Sheryl Crow, and Fleetwood Mac, and a heart attack later – we finally make it out of Jack. Walk home? Nooo…random encounter #1 is going to drive. Thank you baby-Jesus. Meals like that are epic and come when you need them the most…when you feel like you’re going to die because of the ungodly amount of alcohol consumed from the night before.

What would we do without you, Jack? What would we do.