Dear LucasFilm and McDonalds' Happy Meal People:
I took my three-year-old to McDonald's for lunch the other day after school shopping.
Got a Happy Meal.
"OOh, Star Wars!" I thought. Then I opened the package.
WHAT
THE FUCK
IS THIS?
I mean, Look. I like Chewbacca, and I like an AT-AT or AT-ST (I don't know the difference, I'm not THAT big of a fan) as much as the next guy, but DUUUUUUUDE-uh:
PUT.
THE BONG.
DOWWWWN.
I'm not even going to get INTO wondering why Chewbacca is crosseyed.
This is a case of someone not knowing when to stop. It's the equivalent of a perfectly good pair of jeans that somebody had to go and bedazzle. Why could you not just have a cool-ass windup AT-AT thingie? That would have been awesome!
Some of the 18 toys in the series (click on photo for more) kind of make sense--an Ewok head on a scooter, sure. But most of them look like they've been hacked up and superglued together by that mean kid from Toy Story. And the R2-D2 one? Come on. You weren't even trying. What kills me is, these pieces of crap come FREE with a cheeseburger, but for some reason if I want just a plain, NON-BOBBLE, NON-CROSS-EYED, NON GENETICALLY MUTATED Han Solo action figure it's gonna set me back $78 on eBay. What is the world coming to. OH THE HUMANITY.
p.s. I know, I've been neglecting my blog. I'm really very sorry. I've been traveling for weeks doing fun stuff that did not include computer access--jet skis and waterparks and other stuff the men in my life love to do that I find annoying--and taking a whole week off work because we took Frog out of his old school and then it was a week before the new one started (more on that later) and while I know there are moms who are home with their kids all the time AND write blogs, Frog has this strict (I am not kidding) "no cell phone" policy in his room, so if I am playing with him I cannot even text anybody, much less post to the blog. It's like his room is located in the 16th century. Super annoying. So. Oh, and right now I'm studying for grad school, like REALLY studying, for this big huge final full-day essay exam I have to take to walk away with my Master's. So after this weekend, I'll be back. Be proud of me: I'm trying really hard to be good. I'm seriously cheating by even being on here right now. Not kidding. Don't tell my mom. Hi mom.
