Primitive Burger King Gods

My best friend Christian is back in town! Christian goes to B.U. and the type of bro (as in best guy friend) that no matter how long it's been since you've been together last, you pick up right where you left off. You probably need something like that in your life, I think. Anyway, we've been breaking in my new abode with CASES OF PBR and FORTIES. Seriously, it's been a lot of fun. We went to a free screening of "Get Him to the Greek" last night (it's definitely a TBS: Very Funny. Partying-like-a-rock-star-humor rarely fails to amuse. Same goes for Britishisms like "jeffrey.") and dined at Burger King. Christian and I are pretty serious about fast food. So we're feasting on chicken sandwiches and "steak-house" burgers when, after easily ignored songs like "Bring Me a Higher Love" and a Carrie Underwood hit, this song came on and ruined my day with information. Goddammit. I love this song but hearing it at a BK on a rainy night at 10 o'clock? Whilst stuffing your face with sat. fat and processed meat? I HAD TO RESIST URGES TO CONTEMPLATE MY MORTALITY IN ORDER THAT I COULD ORDER SECONDS. It was some kind of music/fast food culture clash. I don't want to hear P.R.G. while I'm eating a burger under fluorescent lights. I don't really want to hear anything at all except the chewing noises that grimly connect us to the cattle we were putting into our mouths.