Anyways, in a PBR-induced fit of boredom Friday night, myself and some boyzzz decided to look up the goods on wikipedia. With wikipedia being, as everyone knows, a neverending font of hilarity for the drunkenly bored. So, we find the page on Mcdonaldland and begin to reminisce about the good old days beneath the Golden Arches, or something like that. I vaguely remember the old Mcdonald's play areas that I used to wreak havoc in when I was a little kid, and upon looking at that page I realize that, in my youth, I definitely rode a bouncing Fry Kid. That sounds horrible! Great. Apple pie trees, little buggy-eyed hamburgers? A world where burgers grow in patches? Right. Awesome.
+ Grimace used to be the Evil Grimace. So, does that mean he used to actually grimace, rather than walk around with that dumbass smile on his face all the time? Also, he used to have four arms, which pretty much makes him the McDonald's-issue Hindi god of burger-snatching, which in and of itself is full of blasphemy.
+ Re: The Hamburglar: "Originally, his vocabulary consisted of nothing other than 'Robble, robble, robble.' His vocabulary has been expanded; he later was shown speaking ordinary English, though he continued to use 'robble robble' to occasionally punctuate his speech." WHAT? I do not remember this whatsoever. My world was changed. And you better believe that I am reintroducing robble robble robble into the common vernacular.
+ Grimace had an uncle. Grimace's uncle was named UNCLE O'GRIMACEY. Guess which color Uncle O'Grimacey was? Right, right. Right. He carried a shillelagh! And there was a Shamrock Shake!? What's wrong with you, McDonald's?! There better have been Bailey's and Jameson in that damned shake. McDonald's gets a lot of undeserved shit for having a McRib sandwich, but, really, they deserve a whole lot more shit for this Shamrock Shake, here.
Great use of a Friday night, I know. But, so, here's where the important shit happens. Saturday night, I am hanging out with the hipsters of Doylestown, Pennsylvania (all four of them). Completely different set of jerks than the night before. Anyways, we are hanging out in some old hipster farmhouse, obviously, and this kid Dan in a glittery-dollar-sign straight-brimmed hipster-hat starts joking about how Dickie should watch out or he's going to steal one of his guitars ROBBLE ROBBLE ROBBLE. Like, out of the fucking blue, he yelled ROBBLE ROBBLE ROBBLE. I fell over and died.
And that, friends, is how the Hamburglar stole my sanity. I leave you with this: