Some time last week L. and I went to McCrossen's and split a burger. We were expecting their delicious and thick-cut fries but were sadly faced with shoestring fries instead. T. said that had been a mistake and that they actually had the right fries as well as the mistake fries. And yet somehow we got the mistake fries. I was sad. I cried. I wept. I asked for vindication. The burger was good though.
I forget what L. is doing here, but I took the photograph three or four times so clearly it was important to document. Maybe it's the fear she has of my fry wrath. Probably not.