Saturday, 19 December 2015


piggly wiggly, five guys burgers, christmas shopping, brampton,
This masterpiece of portraiture has little to do with today's post but it does strike just the right note of insouciance-slash-sluttiness I like to strive for here on

Dear Santa: 

I sure hope you read Whorrified because as anyone with eyes in his fat elfin head can see, I've been pretty goddam good this year. And in case you've been too "busy" to check in lately, I would call your attention specifically to posts A), B) and C), which I hold to be particularly fine exhibits of my amazeballsiness. Yes, I may occasionally terrorize retail servants and yes, I may occasionally verbally sodomize celebritwats on an almost daily basis, but goddamit, my heart is in the right place. *pats arse briskly* Yup. Still there. 

Why this weekend alone, despite the fact that I, too, was "busy" babysitting my teeny tiny angel baby and then criss-crossing Greater Toronto to visit my aunt, my mom, my daughters AND my hairdresser, I somehow found time to hit the mall on the busiest weekend of the year to finish my Christmas shopping. And since we're on the topic of saintliness, I confess I did have a tiny lapse in temper yesterday and also the day before but it was nowhere near as bad as usual and it wasn't my fault. Allow me to explain.

During my Christmas shopping spree, I stopped at Five Guys Burgers. Which was neither within my budget nor on my to-do list, but one can't be expected to spend money on other people all day and not pause for several rounds of refreshment. And of course, because I'm incapable of performing even the simplest random act without massive drama following, things immediately began going all kinds of wrong.

piggly wiggly, five guys burgers, christmas shopping, brampton,
'HI SANTA! I CAN'T TALK YET but if I could I'd ask you to bring me some GLUTEN! And also to be very good to my Glammy this Christmas. That woman is a saint!' Signed, Piggly Wiggly

First, the cashier asked if I wanted two patties or one. 
"I just want an ordinary cheeseburger," I told him. 
And then I paid. And waited. Which is fine because they provide you with heaps of delicious free peanuts while you sit and watch them grill your burger. And while I watched I noticed one order after another coming off the grill stacked two patties high. 
So I skittered up to the counter and said, "Excuse me, I just want to make sure you're not grilling two patties for me?" 
The cashier scowled. "You SAID you wanted the ordinary burger. If you wanted one patty you should have ordered the Little Burger." 
"No, YOU should have told ME the ordinary burger is a monstrosity that explains America's obesity problem," I thought but did not say because I had no desire to debate semantics with a burger minion.

Instead, I said, "Sorry, it's my first time here. Can you change my order?" 
"We're very busy," he huffed. "You'll have to wait till I talk to my boss." 
Who was the guy behind him, manning the grill. Right in front of me they start discussing my poor ordering skills and the grill master snaps, "Well if that's what she ordered that's her problem." And the shrill harpie in my head spread her wings and screeched : "WHOAAA! WHAT???

five guys, best burger in brampton, piggly wiggly, christmas, christmas shopping,
I might not ever go back.

Which, if you know anything about me, usually signals an oncoming verbal inferno in which I say things like: "Now see here you insolent Five Guys prat ... and by the way where are the other three guys? You could use three more guys!" But not this time. This time, I was filled with the milk of human Christmas and so I simply said, "I apologize for the confusion, gentlemen; please adjust my order ... and my bill."

Oddly and Christmas-miraculously, not making a whorrific scene actually worked because I got my tasty "little" burger, I got my flaccid greasy fries, I got my overpayment refunded, I got refueled AND I got a titillating selfie. One could hardly ask for more. Except perhaps some acknowledgement from a certain red-suited someone that this remarkable show of restraint will be handsomely rewarded on Christmas Day with cold, hard cash. And perhaps one large bottle each of Hypno, Alize and Hennessy? After all, there's no point being nice if it's not going to pay off, is there? I could bust this whole "Naughty List" scam wide open if I chose to. (Not a threat.) 

Love, Whorrified

PS: Sorry, didn't have any cookies. I assume you're okay with gluten-free lemon wafers? It's all I had time to steal from Piggly's house.