McNerds. They're Out There.

Apparently I am not the biggest loser in the country, since to some select group of Twilight-addicted poindexters the McRib is akin to Catherine on the moors:

The sandwich's elusiveness has created a fan base of people who go to considerable lengths to munch on a McRib. Ryan Dixon of Burbank, Calif., once drove 10 hours to Medford, Ore., after hearing a McDonald's there was selling the sandwich.

"It has a ghostly quality," says Mr. Dixon, a 30-year-old graphic novelist. "You don't know when it will appear. It's the girl who you are in love with who has always been a tease to you."

Just for kicks, I will now string together every sentence I've ever used "McRib" in, and see how sexy it turns out as a story.

I realize that other than "no attacks since 9/11!!!" and the McRib comeback there's not a lot for Bush to pound his chest about, but he has to fucking stop bleating this "I was willing to make the tough decisions" nonsense.  Meanwhile as I'm patting myself on the back for thinking about attempting to try to maybe consider once and for all giving up (MAYBE) my McRib toothpaste. You can Photoshop Britney sitting on your face while Dina Lohan brings in a McRib platter in a French maid outfit.

Hmm. That actually IS kinda sexy. Damn.