He Said She Said: The McRib Experience

It’s been awhile, but it’s time for another edition of He Said, She Said. This occasional Georgia Mae feature allows our resident man blogger and I to discuss different, though not necessarily opposing, thoughts on different issues, frivolous and grave. This edition definitely falls on the frivolous side. But, hey, it’s Friday. 


He said:


This really turned out to be a landmark week. History making, even.


No, not because of some silly election. And despite the buzz on Twitter and Facebook, certainly not because Lil’ Wayne was released from his eight-month stint in the bing yesterday. Funny how when one overrated Southern rapper gets released from jail, another overrated Southern rapper gets locked up (hope T.I. brought the Vaseline).


Maybe it’s part of Da Illuminatiz’s plan to keep the country’s Ignorant Rap Ratio in balance.

If you don’t know what a McRib is, you’re probably a terrorist. Or Javacia.


Javacia had never in her life tasted a McRib. Never! Well, no wife of mine will be deprived of such a delectable treat. Who can resist the sloppy rib-like meat slapped between two stale buns soaked in barbecue sauce and onions?


That actually sounds like a romantic evening in Southern Rap Prison, but I digress.

She: “Why would I eat something called a McRib if it doesn’t taste like ribs?”


He: “Lemonheads don’t taste like real lemons but they’re still good! Eat it!”

–Edd

She said:


Monday one of my Facebook friends posted this as his status update: Gross! The McRib is back. 


My sentiments exactly, I thought. Well, actually, at that point I had never eaten a McRib, but I figured the thing had to be disgusting. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no food snob. I admit I eat plenty of crap and in college I even dined on Chef Boyardee despite the fact that those meatballs taste nothing like real beef. But I have my limits. There’s just something about McDonald’s that doesn’t sit well with me unless I’ve had about 10 glasses of wine.  


But Edd insisted that I try this pseudo pork patty to prove my patriotism because it’s apparently un-American to not eat the McRib. To get some insight into how much of a sacrifice this was for me, you should know that I gave up pork when I was 15. Over the past year I’ve had a few slices of bacon (It’s hard to say no to swine in the South) but my lips haven’t touched a rib since the 90s. That being said, I do remember the flavor of barbecue and the McRib I had last night tasted nothing like anything that’s come off my daddy’s famous grill. I can’t say the McRib was nasty. It just didn’t taste like much of anything, sort of like a piece of rubber slathered in barbecue sauce. One bite was enough for me and Edd didn’t seem to mind polishing off the rest. 
  
As a reward for proving that I wasn’t a full-blooded terrorist, Edd bought me a quarter pounder with cheese. I pretended I’d been doing Tequila and Patron shots and ate every bite. I told you I’m not a food snob. 




–Javacia

He said:

Mmmm, mmmm, it was as good as I remembered. Tastes like barbecued heart disease.

I don’t think Javacia was very impressed with the experience. She must have a little al-Qaida in her blood. She can go back to listening to Illuminatiz-approved music and burning her flags. We true patriots will be eating our McRibs – and probably dying prematurely in four years.