Bag Lady In Love

If you can’t say something good about someone, you ought  say nothing at all. 'Tis why I'm not saying — but am, rather, thinking — that someone’s impromptu visit to McDonaldland® with her girlfriend of six weeks is about to end on a very bad note, regardless of how well things have been going between the two — how they both gleefully use the term "awesome sauce," are obsessed with Tegan and bloody Sara, and are quite certain that their relentless romping atop the dormitory futon will somehow trigger the Richter® scale — one doesn't go modeling a french fry bag as a head wrap in public — no matter how darling it was for, perhaps, one nanosecond — and refuse to remove it for the entirety of an embarrassing walk through the campus quadrangle, adding insult to egregious injury by broadcasting the she-nan-agains in an Instagramatic™ photo ‘round the Twitternet™ with proclamations of love everlasting. Oh well, Hell's bells and cockled shells, Mum and Dad still love ya', darlin'.