Oh the guilt

The other day, Baloney and I hit up the Taco Bell drive through. Don't hate, it was that or McDonalds, and the line was longer at McD's.

I order my tacos, and a drink, and am all set to hear my total.

Then comes the question.

"Would you like to donate a dollar to world hunger?"

I say yes, quickly.

After all, I'm sitting in a Taco Bell drive through, and am about to stuff my fat face with all their fake mexican goodness, and all they want is a dollar? How could I say no. What kind of person would I be, chompin on a taco, when there are kids that have no idea what a taco is. Or have the option of soft or crunchy. And if I hesitated to answer, then they would be like "Oh no, she actually had to think about it? Someone gets some hot sauce to thaw her icy heart." I may not buy popcorn tins from boy scouts, or donate plasma, but I am NOT about to be known as the world hunger witch.

They gave me a little card to put my name on, to say I "helped" with world hunger. It was the guilt that drove me. And my growling tummy. And the fact that it was a dollar.

Thanks for the guilt trip Taco Bell.