Canadians say "washroom"
I wish I could eat Jack in the Box everyday. I really do. I mean, I could, I suppose, but then I would turn into a fattard and then I'd be a sweattard and a fattard at the same time. Even if there were another outbreak of flesh eating cholera or whatever it was, I would still get a large #7 with regular fries and a coke. Even if Mr. Bush made a televised announcement that terrorists had put poison in the seasoned ground beef of my double bacon cheeseburger, I would still relish my fast food meal, including the 49 ounce coke which I enjoy using the trademark blue straw. If Jack in the Box were to go out of business, I could clean out my checking account, buy all the burgers my meager savings could afford and a deep freeze, and store the delectable contents inside and ration the burgers out for years, planning the date in which I would run out and then commit suicide after taking the last bite. Well..maybe not. I'd probably be pissed for a while and go to Mc Donalds and years later while at a social gathering I would bond with a stranger over how much we miss Jack in the Box much like you do with someone who remembers the same 80's cartoon that you grew up watching.