"Lisa, people do lots of crazy things in commercials...like eat at Arby's!" - Marge Simpson
"I'm so hungry, I could eat at Arby's!" - Sherri
As I have previously revealed, I have what can be at best described as a tenuous relationship with Arby's®. If the food is fresh and hot and there's plenty of Arby's® sauce then Bob's your uncle. However, if the food has had any chance to cool down... well, as I said, we've been over this ground before. In fact it's that very entry that made this blog the number one Google result for dried horseshit dong. However, owing to the fact that I'm cheap and always up for free shit, I registered my e-mail account with Arbys.com® when they had a promotion for a free milkshake.
See? I'm a whore. And it wasn't even a good milkshake.
As it stands, whenever Rockafeller J. Q. Arby's® emerges from his boardroom with designs for a new line of foodstuff products to hawk, some nerd in the basement does a mail merge and my Inbox vomits a notification on my screen, presumably, because it too is familiar with Arby's®. Today was such a day, my friends.
Today, while minding my own business, innocently illustrating some Harry Potter/Twilight slash fic, I received notice of an unholy trio of sandwiches now available at participating Arby's's® near me:
Arby's® Roastburgers
The coupon included in the e-mail stated that I could receive a free Roastburger™ with the purchase of a medium drink. I printed off two copies, ignoring the "one coupon per customer per visit" boilerplate that, between you and me, is only observed by some well-worn shitheel in Arby's® legal department and you just know he's the guy who always bitches about putting money under the Free Parking corner in Monopoly because it's a house rule rather than being part of canon. Well, I say fuck that guy. He has erectile dysfunction, his "friends" think he's a joke and his wife's been cheating on him for over a year now. Are you gonna listen to a guy like that?
Actually... now that I think about it. I may be confusing the Arby's® lawyer with Ben. Shit. I hate when I do that. My bad, Ben! We still on for darts?
As it stands, The Arby's® Roastburger come in three "flavors": Bacon Cheddar, All-American and Bacon & Bleu. The Bacon Cheddar consists of "thinly sliced oven roasted beef, pepper bacon, cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato, onion and a sense of shame". The All-American is composed of "thinly sliced oven roasted beef, lettuce, tomato, pickle, onion, ketchup, mustard, special sauce and crippling Internet porn addiction". Finally, the Bacon & Bleu is "thinly sliced oven roasted beef, pepper bacon, bleu cheese spread, lettuce, tomato, onion and social anxiety". With such alluring ad copy how could I not have this for lunch immediately??
I left the office and returned to my desk shortly thereafter with two of the fabled sammiches. Not feeling too exotic, I passed on the Bacon & Bleu and sat down to my Bacon Cheddar and All-American. I was heady. I was giddy. I felt exactly like a celebrity judge on Iron Chef except it was Iron Chef America, the chef was a schizophrenic child molester with Crohn's disease and the secret ingredient was fail.
Let's take a look at the contenders, shall we?
Behold... the Bacon & Cheddar! Looks harmless enough, I suppose. Not quite the robust delicacy as advertised, though is it? Let's take a look inside...
Why do I do this to myself? The taste was just what I imagined it to be: an Arby's® roast beef sandwich with bacon, cheddar cheese, lettuce, tomato and onion. Not a horrible combination, mind you. Just nothing you'd feed to a loved one. Or an Iraqi insurgent, for that matter.
After scraping my tongue clean with a Chore Boy dipped in lye I moved on to my next target... the All-American!
You look a lot like your brother, you know that?
And the inside is rich Corinthian leather!
But wait! What of the much vaunted special sauce?!?
Frankly, the comedic reference to ejaculate is too easy and too obvious. I mean you thought it yourself. There was no need for me to type out "Oh snap! That danged Evans kid just done cranked one off onta mah burger bun!" For that reason, and that reason alone, no joke or commentary will be made regarding semen or sperm in this blog entry.
The worst part was that it was "smokey" flavored. Like someone was attempting to emulate the flavor of a hamburger except they'd never actually eaten a hamburger but instead seen an interpretive dance describing what a hamburger tastes like.
A dance performed by a wheelchair-bound epileptic with narcolepsy.
You know how those hamburger flavored potato chips taste? Imagine that flavor anally raping a jar of mayo, heating up the resulting afterbirth and smearing it on your already horrible franchise sandwich. It's kind of like that.
But worse.
Want to know the best part of this whole deal? Choke down all three of these horrors and get...
... a fourth one for free! That's like telling a gay Jewish survivor of Bergen-Belsen that they've won a free trip to Auschwitz. And there's three sandwiches... but I eat four... how does that math even work? My brain is broken at this point.
