I know I haven’t been regularly updating my blog like I said I would—but I have a good reason: I finally got a job! As an attorney! OMG! I’m a working attorney!

I’m not saying this as someone who is bragging about being employed, but as someone who had spent over a year trying to get into the legal profession without any success. Yes, I’d been pounding the pavement and mass mailing my resume the entire time, but all I got out of it was an ever growing list of bad first interviews and rejection letters.

It wasn’t as if I was surprised by how hard it would be to find a job. The market was already in the toilet when I graduated from law school, and I knew I would be spending at least a few months tearing through the classifieds. I just didn’t expect it to be as difficult as it turned out to be. I mean, I wasn’t just competing against my former classmates in this War for Work. I was also up against people who had degrees from better schools, got better grades, had more work experience, etc. All I had on my resume was a brief college internship at a tiny law firm, and some random research projects I did for other attorneys. The end. No, really, that’s all I have on my resume. And I’m pretty sure most of the employers only interviewed me because they wanted to see the loser who tried to get by on such crappy credentials. And let me tell you, I did not disappoint:

I eventually realized that the traditional resume/interview route wasn’t going to be enough, so I turned to networking in hopes that my bright personality and enthusiasm would make up for the things my resume lacked. Unfortunately, you can’t really impress people with personality traits you don’t have…but at least I did not disappoint:

Networking didn’t get me anywhere. Resumes and interviews didn’t get me anywhere. It was starting to look as if I was going to have to pack my things and move back home.

Before I could start throwing my stuff into trash bags and boxes, however, I had to go to an interview. It was for a job that had been posted on my school’s website, and I applied even though my chances were slim. But slim chances are still chances, and I ended up receiving an e-mail from the employer later that day, asking if I could go in for an interview the following afternoon. And of course I went because it wasn’t like I was busy or anything. And then the strangest thing happened. I got the job! No kidding! And when I told my new boss that I didn’t know much about the law he specialized in, he just said, “Well, the only way people learn things is by having someone teach them.” An employer who is willing to take the time to teach an employee something from scratch? OMG! They do exist!

Anyway, that’s why I’ve been a little busier than usual. I haven’t had an actual job in a quite some time, so my time management skills need a little work. But I’m getting better, I think. I mean, I managed to put this post together, right?

Thanks for putting up with me!

I bought a Happy Meal the other day. Yeah, I know I’m not exactly within the Happy Meal age range. If anything, I should be getting one of those Mighty Kids meals—does McDonald’s even sell those anymore? What’s the point of offering them in the first place anyway? No child—or adult—is going to want a Mighty Kids meal when he can get a Happy Meal. Sure, the food is the same in both, but the Happy Meal is the meal, you know?

…At least it was. Now I’m not so sure.

Like I said, I got myself a Happy Meal the other day because I felt like appeasing the child in me (think Peter Pan Syndrome, not pregnancy).

But as I was about to get down with my Happy self, I was suddenly blinded by a horrific sight!

Did I find hair in my fries? Was was there a wad of chewed gum stuck to the bottom of my burger? No, what I got was much, much worse…

Instead of the typical small bag of French fries, there was a tiny pocket of, like, six fries. Okay, maybe it was more than six…it might have been seven. But whatever! There were far fewer fries in there than there should have been. I also received a bag of apple slices—which I know I didn’t ask for. “Did McDonald’s give me the apples because they ran out of French fries? ‘Cause that’s not even close to being an adequate substitution!“

I felt totally ripped off, and decided to call the McDonald’s that sold me this sad ass Happy Meal and complain. I went online to search for their phone number. One of the results I got back was a news headline: “Healthier McDonald’s Happy Meal debuts in SoCal.”

Healthier? McDonald’s? No, don’t tell me…no way…no…NOOOOOOO!

But it was true: “The new Happy Meal will automatically include both a quarter cup or half serving of apple slices and a new smaller 1.1 ounce side of fries.”

There wasn’t anything for me to complain about because according to the article, the French fry failure, the apple slices—none of it was the result someone’s ineptitude. No, they were there because they were supposed to be. This was Happy Meal…but I was anything but happy.

Although I couldn’t legitimately complain about McDonald’s messing up my order, that doesn’t mean I don’t have any complaints about it at all. This new Happy Meal—a.k.a., the Misery Meal—is a travesty of everything a child loves about Happy Meals. I mean, when I was a kid, the whole point of going to McDonald’s was to avoid eating healthy food. Perhaps it’s because my parents didn’t have the time or the budget back then, but most of our meals were eaten at home. And when we did go out to eat, it was usually at a Chinese restaurant. Going to McDonald’s and getting a Happy Meal was pretty much reserved for special occasions. So when we were there, I would try to stuff as many French fries and bites of hamburger into my stomach as I could because for all I knew, I never have another chance to get a Happy Meal again.

No matter how much I loved McDonald’s, or begged and pleaded my parents to take me, the times I got to eat there as a child were few and far between. And I think that might be a big reason why my sister and I didn’t have childhood obesity problems. Everything we ate–whether it was Hainan chicken or a Happy Meal–it all had to come from my parents before it ended up in my stomach. We didn’t have a choice, and we knew it. Everyone knows this: kids don’t control their own diets; their parents do. So why are fast food restaurants like McDonald’s getting crapped on? Because the food they serve—the food kids are able to eat only because their parents paid for it—is fatty? Hello! It’s fast food! That stuff has always been fatty—that’s why is so freaking good! If you are worried about your child getting bit by obesity, then don’t give them fast food! Is that really so difficult? Last I checked, kids weren’t exactly forcing their parents to get them Happy Meals:

Did I say “kids”? I meant “cats and kids.”

But is my sounding off limited to Happy Meals? No. This stuff applies to the entire fast food industry—an industry that has been trying to transition onto a path of healthier living. And I honestly don’t understand why it has to do that. Hamburgers, French fries, and all that other good stuff has always been synonymous with weight gain. Where do you think the term “fast food” came from anyway?

People who are health-conscious shouldn’t be getting pissy with McDonald’s or any other fast food restaurant. Sure, they make the food that makes you gain weight, but you’re the one who chooses to eat it. Obviously then, if you don’t want to gain weight, don’t eat fast food.

But that’s not what’s happening here. Some people are pointing their fingers at everything but themselves, and making places like McDonald’s throw apple slices into its Happy Meals. And why? So they can start a healthy-living regiment without giving up fast food?

It doesn’t work that way!