Update, 1/25/2016. Read with care, no? Put my belly in the sink, pinch the pie.

I went to a McDonald's store in Castaic, California.  I guess so many signs have caution for me.  Something in the wind tells me about the bittersweet goodness.  The tables were the usual kinds that are rare, although the McPlay area was spotted with stickers of Ronald's friends and big shoe shelves.  I saw a gentleman with a clipboard observing the area; he dropped his pen, and I picked it up and returned it to him.  The store hasn't been remodeled recently, if ever.  I try to have yellow eggs weekly so that I don't turn loose and into mush; besides, what's the pursuit if there is any?  Attempts to remark on the extravagance leave me behind, despite the searches through which I gaze.

Yep, the Hamburglar (striped suit) wants you to stay around 4 feet tall.
The slides were vacant around breakfast time, but breakfast time is often vivid here.
I like the Hamburglar's hamburger tie, his striped flat hat, and his personal cape.

My computer has been broken, so I've had to step up my game and debate with myself privately with how to approach restaurant reviews.  Opinions about gates can really soothe the audience; not to mention, taste is a matter of selection and prestige with my reasons to cover it, and people often make complaints about McDonald's that are temporary and serve the purpose of refining the sense of guilt rather than dreams.  

I see two coffees, but my parents aren't holding hands.
Can lovers sense connections already?
Clocks can really bug us out.

Of course, the Big Mac has layers.  In fact, sandwiches are about layers, but what if shapes indicate the engine for imagination on the part of their creators?  McDonald's shouldn't just deal with the complaints that are big enough for their acute attention.  Sure, all ends meet various scenes, along with the means.  Has it ever occurred to anyone that ends might actually be the means?  So many meanings end with themselves, so I can imagine the finishing touches as great ones that can soothe great guilt (examples, diet confessions and exercise quitting); plus, appearances of lobbies and food go hand in hand, and I don't see much relation between McWrappers and geometric paintings.

You see here, there are clear windows and cushy back pads.
My dad complained about the hard chairs on metal poles though.
Basically, much of the space doesn't seem to have a wall.
Obviously, Ronald doesn't eat in public.

I've had trips to Sizzler's and Presto Pasta and a Chinese buffet restaurant, and I tend to travel with my parents because I have ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), which means I can't drive without possibly killing myself.  I can't wait for self-driving cars!  Certainly, the Taco Bell store on Coffee Road in Bakersfield, California, is a source of exotic art and has its "Taco Bell Promise."

This is a painting in Taco Bell.
It looks like we have a Moonstar Butterfly!

 It's surprising that Taco Bell has creamy tacos with juiciness and freshness at once.  I like to think of the Dorito Beef Taco as a subtle gift.  What's the big deal with discord in the fast food industry?  As I said before, nature can be a product, but it has different layers with specific types of ambiance.

The yellow wolf-guy here has a tank, with a guage, plus sharp shoulders on a 2-D plane.
So, is this discord?
My mom excuses herself from conversation with a rather absent mind.
I like the depictions here of the corn-cobs, they ring Pablo Picasso.
Notice how one flame is empty while the other one is full.
The bell icon looks like it's in a coin, and the Sun has a striped vibe with glittering rays.

I had a trip in Bakersfield to look at a nice house in Tehachapi, California.

Blurriness goes a long way.
I may take off my glasses and see the world like this.
I pretend like I'm having tubed televisions again by taking off my glasses.
There's a rumor that many colas cause bad eyesight.
I don't know, I've swimmed in pools, got hit by rocks and fists, and almost ate my jumps.
What if life just tires my eyes?