ballp.it

Snakes In The Ball Pit => Yay, I get to talk about me! => Topic started by: Lemon on March 18, 2018, 03:41:34 pm

Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Lemon on March 18, 2018, 03:41:34 pm
I've noticed a couple signs and billboards advertising the idea of having McDonalds delivered to your door via UberEats.

I've just gone to the UberEats website and clicked around for a bit. Delivery on a Big Mac Meal will take an estimated 20-30 minutes, and will cost $12.11 (plus tip, presumably)

Please create a hypothetical situation where this would be something you'd actually do.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 04:16:03 pm
I'm the president of the united states.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Shigan on March 18, 2018, 04:17:44 pm
Trapped in a Brewster's Millions scenario
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: SATAN MILKSHAKE on March 18, 2018, 04:21:06 pm
If you're rich and tasteless enough to use UberEats, you're rich and tasteless enough to want a Big Mac delivered to your door.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: chai tea latte on March 18, 2018, 04:27:05 pm
Mistress whips me again. I whimper. She gets off, she tells me, on exerting influence over others. Money is power, liquid human capital. It is, in a vital sense, my blood, my life's labour ground out from the machine. I've been into financial domination for a while, and we've had this professional bdsm relationship for almost two years now.

I am tied to the bed. Mistress informs me that I am going to buy her a big Mac online and pay for someone to drive it to us.
'That's so wasteful!' I try to exclaim, but it comes out through the ball gag as MMMPPHHHMMMPH. Mistress punches in my Uber Eats password and shows me the little car moving on the screen.

"You're going to buy Mistress a fifteen dollar Big Mac, and you're going to cum, hands-free, while I eat it. If you don't cum I'll tip the driver one hundred dollars."

MMMMMMMPPPPHMMMPH
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: AgentCoop on March 18, 2018, 04:37:07 pm
when im hungry
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: boooo566 on March 18, 2018, 05:13:29 pm
For a single big mac meal maybe if I broke both my legs and was stuck at home for an extended period? It would have to be sufficiently immobile to not just go there and I'd have to be sufficiently miserable to not care I'm spending about 10 on a big mac so maybe a severe injury and extended housebound period would do it.

I guess I can see it being an okay idea if there was a bunch of people? If there's more people ordering then the delivery cost is spread thinner and it's not necessarily convenient to ditch the gathering and then carry a huge amount home. If you had half a dozen people around watching a film or playing call of duty and all wanted mcdonalds it might be worthwhile to order it all in rather than interrupt the evening. I specifically probably wouldn't but for the broader "you" maybe that's the answer.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:34:37 pm
Sting operation to catch The Hamburglar
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Dr. Buttplug on March 18, 2018, 05:34:54 pm
If you're my sister apparently.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Darkly on March 18, 2018, 05:35:05 pm
I'm guessing the price is calculated by: Uber price + McDonalds price + tip, which would mean that the cost of UberEats gets relatively smaller with the more food you order.

So, hypothetically, I guess if I had 50 people at my house and hadn't already planned ahead for food and everyone wanted a big mac for dinner, then maybe?
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Dr. Buttplug on March 18, 2018, 05:37:17 pm
A Steamed Hams type scenario.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Darkly on March 18, 2018, 05:39:01 pm
Alternative bulk ordering scenario: when my industrial walk-in freezer filled with big macs starts running low.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Bobguinary Novel on March 18, 2018, 05:39:25 pm
Absolutely fucking never. I worked there for five years, I would choose death by starvation first. The beeping haunts my dreams.

Wait, I would do it under one condition - if me ordering it every day would give every crew member in the nation a living fucking wage.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:39:34 pm
A Steamed Hams type scenario.
Jackal Flapnasty, March 18, 2018, 05:37:17 pm

Steamed Hams except I'm forcing the UberEats driver to act out the entire script with me or I rate them a 1 star and leave no tip
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:42:03 pm
Trapped under pile of own trash, can only reach the part of my phone to order on uber eats but don't have the strength to swipe to other restaurants or the reach to go to other apps, trying to communicate sos in morse code with my order frequency
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Darkly on March 18, 2018, 05:43:08 pm
When I want a burger but all of my friends want tacos so I just have a big mac delivered to us at Taco Bell.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:43:20 pm
The same situation as my last post but the trash is metaphorical and it's a cry for help
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Darkly on March 18, 2018, 05:45:37 pm
When I'm in a hurry and don't want to stop at a drive-thru so I just instruct the UberEats driver to pull up alongside me driving down the highway and toss the big mac through my window.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:46:49 pm
Need one piece for mcdonalds monopoly and ordering from every mcdonalds possible to get it
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Dr. Buttplug on March 18, 2018, 05:47:38 pm
I know the Uber driver is blonde and artists have stopped answering emails about my Wonder Bread commissions.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:47:53 pm
It's the next F Plus Live and I'm at Lemon's house and it's his phone and he left it unlocked, the idiot, ahahaha this'll be a hilarious prank callback to that post he made months ago, haha I hope he remembers that or this won't be funny at all
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:48:54 pm
A loved one is having a reverse heart attack and I need to get them to have a heart attack ASAP to balance it out.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Shigan on March 18, 2018, 05:50:56 pm
Want to sculpt a beef vulva out of the ground-up labia used in the burger patties.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:53:43 pm
I need to celebrate my 1000th post

[yay] [yay] HAPPY 1000TH POST FRANK WEST [yay] [yay] ! ENJOY YOUR UBEREATS MCDONALDS MEAL!

Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Darkly on March 18, 2018, 05:56:40 pm
*Ronald McDonald, Grimace, Mayor McCheese, Birdie, and the Fry Kids all come in for a HUGE party*
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Frank West on March 18, 2018, 05:57:37 pm
I need to celebrate my 1001th post.

[poop] YOU HAVE A SHITPOSTING PROBLEM FRANK WEST, STOP PLEASE [poop]
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Schumin Capote on March 18, 2018, 06:29:18 pm
I have a friend who decided he could live without a car in Phoenix, so he started ordering takeout from UberEats or GrubHub all the time and it got out of hand for him pretty quickly,

I guess the scenarios where ordering McDonalds via UberEats would make sense would be if you are disabled, elderly, have a shit ton of DUIs, if you are a kid with your parent's credit card, you want to impress your findom mistress, or if you are a feeder with a busy schedule.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: LancashireMcGee on March 18, 2018, 07:51:46 pm
I have a friend who decided he could live without a car in Phoenix, so he started ordering takeout from UberEats or GrubHub all the time and it got out of hand for him pretty quickly,

I guess the scenarios where ordering McDonalds via UberEats would make sense would be if you are disabled, elderly, have a shit ton of DUIs, if you are a kid with your parent's credit card, you want to impress your findom mistress, or if you are a feeder with a busy schedule.
Schumin Capote, March 18, 2018, 06:29:18 pm

Or alternatively, if you are very very very drunk.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Seth "Slimy" Rollins on March 18, 2018, 08:55:30 pm
Tired of this mortal plain and too impatient to move on to the next realm, buy an Ubereats Mcdonalds and stand in front of the moving car. The driver is horrified but he also has a big mac to mitigate his horror.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Wrought on March 18, 2018, 08:59:52 pm
I'm out in a remote Alaskan village, with only a phone and the ubereats app. I removed my sim card for whatever reason. A wardrobe has fallen on my legs and crushed them. I need to use ubereats to order a meal or else I will die crushed under a bookcase.

Buuuut, I'm not really in the mood for chipotle, and I had thai YESTERDAY, so...
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Dr. Buttplug on March 18, 2018, 09:02:14 pm
Your remote Alaskan village has McDonalds, Chipotle and a Thai Place? I'm not buying it.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Seth "Slimy" Rollins on March 18, 2018, 09:05:26 pm
Want to recreate Super Size Me, but lazy.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Wrought on March 18, 2018, 09:24:00 pm
Your remote Alaskan village has McDonalds, Chipotle and a Thai Place? I'm not buying it.
Jackal Flapnasty, March 18, 2018, 09:02:14 pm
It's REMOTE, it's not a JUNGLE, GOD jackal
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Dr. Buttplug on March 18, 2018, 09:37:12 pm
Your remote Alaskan village has McDonalds, Chipotle and a Thai Place? I'm not buying it.
Jackal Flapnasty, March 18, 2018, 09:02:14 pm
It's REMOTE, it's not a JUNGLE, GOD jackal
Wrought, March 18, 2018, 09:24:00 pm
Oh I get it, so no Five Guys? That sucks shit man.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: One Of The Crappy Pokemon That Nobody Likes on March 18, 2018, 11:02:17 pm
So the delivery guy shows up and gives me the hamburger. His name is Jimbo. At least, that's the name I gave him and he's not speaking clearly enough or making eye contact, so that's the name we're going with.

So Jimbo hands me the burger I ordered. It's roughly 100 degrees outside. So hot you could fry an egg on the driveway, at least that's what I tried to prove by smashing 7 dozen eggs on the pavement. It was everywhere. On the cars, on the trees, on the neighbor's cat. Everywhere. Not just chicken eggs either! I threw a few penguin and ostrich ones into the mix since variety's the spice of life and all. So I says to Jimbo, "hey man, it smells like nasty smoldering eggs out there, wanna come in and relax for a bit?" Before he can say anything, I flip one of the gooey hand-shaped sticky toys onto his forehead with the precision and accuracy of a legendary ninja assassin, one so mighty that no one dare speak their name, and drag him into my humble abode.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and first off, no, I'm not running for mayor this year, but secondly, my intentions were purely platonic. Jimbo sat in the neon green inflatable chair in the center of my otherwise empty living room, partially out of a sick sense of wonder at what could possibly befall him next, an urge to know more, a compulsion so terrifying and beautiful that it guides the chaos we were born in like an oar drawn through a lake full of Mr. Bubble, and partially because I was doing some repairs on my socks and accidentally left a huge puddle of super glue on the seat. "Why am I here?" he asked, his tone sounding like that of a world-class opera singer who was also a deer that just noticed oncoming headlights, "What are going to do?!"

Haha, classic Jimbo.

After placing every manner of gloves onto my hand, both antique and modern, sorted both alphabetically and by color, I reached into the McDonald's bag and pulled out the Big Mac. "What is this?" I asked as calmly as a stream made of molasses. "A... hamburger?" he joked. I have to assume it was a joke because surely no mind blessed with human intelligence, the very weapon our species has used to conquer the world, eradicate disease, and even harness the very power of the sun, the cancerous lifegiver so mighty that our kind once worshipped it as a deity, would call this brilliant creation, this harmonious marriage of meat and vegetables a mere "hamburger". I pulled the end of the sticky hand, which was still firmly secured to his forehead like some kind of unholy chimera born from a tick and a Garfield suction-cup plush like the kind you'd find in some dorky family's car window, and snapped it back. It popped into his head so hard that it drew blood. I prayed that it was his blood, for it was the last he or I would ever see it, smell it, or dream it.

"Nay," I said, my back turned to Jimbo, the glow-in-the-dark number on my faded red jersey mocking him for his pitiful ignorance.

"It is... everything."

I spun around like the finest Russian ballet dancer performing for her favorite haberdasher via satellite during her time on the most extravagant of space stations. The Big Mac, now adorned with several pairs of googly eyes I bought on clearance at Target, stared Jimbo in the face. But not just him. It stared at me, it stared at the portrait of Mr. Rogers I painted onto the wall with melted crayons, it stared out the window and through the ages, right into the home of Ms. Selena Jenkins, the phone psychic who proudly displays her Future Fun Times employee-of-the-fortnight trophy on her fireplace mantel. And as the meaty soul gazed into Jimbo's corneas and clear on into his amygdala, he could feel it drawing ever closer to him, beckoning him, and not just because I had at that point put the patty onto the end of a fishing line and was awkwardly waving it in front of his face.

You see, the ritual had begun 4,000 years ago, and there was no stopping it now.

The patty pulsated, glowing in colors no mortal's "hamburger" would dare dream. It flashed blue, then magenta, then swirled within an ocean of sparkling lights. It projected the universe, and the universes beyond those, and the universes still beyond those, all over the walls. The constellations, Cygnus, Sagittarius, Cetus, probably others that didn't start with an "S" sound... all joined in the glittering, heart-skewering display, spinning and dancing with the joy of children who had been celebrating Infinite Christmas. The stars, comets, planets, all the space in between both explored and unseen, proving that we're just one variety of energy in an infinity that gives every individual quark its own chance to become a savior. He was transfixed. He saw beyond our reality. He saw beyond them all. Every wrinkle, every layer of his mind peeling away and floating away like petals freeing themselves from spring trees. They shattered, one by one, becoming the dust that spiraled into their own galaxies, those galaxies now sustaining their own life, and that life with its own collection of myths and legends about what angels and devils surely birthed them.

Within the walls rose thousands upon thousands of glowing orange lines, cascading, bouncing off of every point of light, playing a game of tag that has no beginning and no end. Fractals that could not be contained, branching, growing, filling every space in every direction and dimension. Soon time itself would be consumed. The light grew, the sounds it projected giggled and fluttered like a parrot imitating a politician turning into silly putty. The noise echoed and reverberated until it was so thunderous and deafening that even the core of the planet screamed for release out of fear of going deaf.

The glorious blaze, the symphony of eternity, underturned itself sideways and shot through Jimbo's body, destroying it. He had no use for it now. He had evolved into something that can not be described. He ascended to an existence we can not even dream, beyond even godhood, as even the gods were bound by mathematics. His essence, everything that made him what he was and what he would have been, expanded at several times the speed of light, like a ham kite being stretched into your imagination by two starving hounds. He became but a new fabric, a new tile on the quilt of possibilities. I thought I would be rent asunder, my internal organs swapping places like an anarchist's game of musical chairs.

As he seemingly vanished, just moments before he lost his ability or desire to communicate in our filthy, confined tongue, I could hear his final words on this plane.

"... Thank you..."

The deed done, I felt as if I had become like a very thin, watery jam. But I knew my mission was not complete. I had to continue. I had to keep building. I hoped this would give humanity a fighting chance, but if out of the trillions of lifeforms beyond space and time, even one survived, all of my joyous suffering would be worth it. Shaking, I picked up my phone and visited the UberEats website again.

Another Big Mac will be here in about half an hour.
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Vinny Possum on March 19, 2018, 03:49:13 pm
Because I'm the hamburglar and it's easier to hold up a single driver than an entire mcdonalds
Title: Conditions under which you would order McDonalds via UberEats
Post by: Is It Normal this Disgusting Giant Sherman Tank on March 24, 2018, 09:42:54 pm
So the delivery guy shows up and gives me the hamburger. His name is Jimbo. At least, that's the name I gave him and he's not speaking clearly enough or making eye contact, so that's the name we're going with.

So Jimbo hands me the burger I ordered. It's roughly 100 degrees outside. So hot you could fry an egg on the driveway, at least that's what I tried to prove by smashing 7 dozen eggs on the pavement. It was everywhere. On the cars, on the trees, on the neighbor's cat. Everywhere. Not just chicken eggs either! I threw a few penguin and ostrich ones into the mix since variety's the spice of life and all. So I says to Jimbo, "hey man, it smells like nasty smoldering eggs out there, wanna come in and relax for a bit?" Before he can say anything, I flip one of the gooey hand-shaped sticky toys onto his forehead with the precision and accuracy of a legendary ninja assassin, one so mighty that no one dare speak their name, and drag him into my humble abode.

Now, I know what you're thinking, and first off, no, I'm not running for mayor this year, but secondly, my intentions were purely platonic. Jimbo sat in the neon green inflatable chair in the center of my otherwise empty living room, partially out of a sick sense of wonder at what could possibly befall him next, an urge to know more, a compulsion so terrifying and beautiful that it guides the chaos we were born in like an oar drawn through a lake full of Mr. Bubble, and partially because I was doing some repairs on my socks and accidentally left a huge puddle of super glue on the seat. "Why am I here?" he asked, his tone sounding like that of a world-class opera singer who was also a deer that just noticed oncoming headlights, "What are going to do?!"

Haha, classic Jimbo.

After placing every manner of gloves onto my hand, both antique and modern, sorted both alphabetically and by color, I reached into the McDonald's bag and pulled out the Big Mac. "What is this?" I asked as calmly as a stream made of molasses. "A... hamburger?" he joked. I have to assume it was a joke because surely no mind blessed with human intelligence, the very weapon our species has used to conquer the world, eradicate disease, and even harness the very power of the sun, the cancerous lifegiver so mighty that our kind once worshipped it as a deity, would call this brilliant creation, this harmonious marriage of meat and vegetables a mere "hamburger". I pulled the end of the sticky hand, which was still firmly secured to his forehead like some kind of unholy chimera born from a tick and a Garfield suction-cup plush like the kind you'd find in some dorky family's car window, and snapped it back. It popped into his head so hard that it drew blood. I prayed that it was his blood, for it was the last he or I would ever see it, smell it, or dream it.

"Nay," I said, my back turned to Jimbo, the glow-in-the-dark number on my faded red jersey mocking him for his pitiful ignorance.

"It is... everything."

I spun around like the finest Russian ballet dancer performing for her favorite haberdasher via satellite during her time on the most extravagant of space stations. The Big Mac, now adorned with several pairs of googly eyes I bought on clearance at Target, stared Jimbo in the face. But not just him. It stared at me, it stared at the portrait of Mr. Rogers I painted onto the wall with melted crayons, it stared out the window and through the ages, right into the home of Ms. Selena Jenkins, the phone psychic who proudly displays her Future Fun Times employee-of-the-fortnight trophy on her fireplace mantel. And as the meaty soul gazed into Jimbo's corneas and clear on into his amygdala, he could feel it drawing ever closer to him, beckoning him, and not just because I had at that point put the patty onto the end of a fishing line and was awkwardly waving it in front of his face.

You see, the ritual had begun 4,000 years ago, and there was no stopping it now.

The patty pulsated, glowing in colors no mortal's "hamburger" would dare dream. It flashed blue, then magenta, then swirled within an ocean of sparkling lights. It projected the universe, and the universes beyond those, and the universes still beyond those, all over the walls. The constellations, Cygnus, Sagittarius, Cetus, probably others that didn't start with an "S" sound... all joined in the glittering, heart-skewering display, spinning and dancing with the joy of children who had been celebrating Infinite Christmas. The stars, comets, planets, all the space in between both explored and unseen, proving that we're just one variety of energy in an infinity that gives every individual quark its own chance to become a savior. He was transfixed. He saw beyond our reality. He saw beyond them all. Every wrinkle, every layer of his mind peeling away and floating away like petals freeing themselves from spring trees. They shattered, one by one, becoming the dust that spiraled into their own galaxies, those galaxies now sustaining their own life, and that life with its own collection of myths and legends about what angels and devils surely birthed them.

Within the walls rose thousands upon thousands of glowing orange lines, cascading, bouncing off of every point of light, playing a game of tag that has no beginning and no end. Fractals that could not be contained, branching, growing, filling every space in every direction and dimension. Soon time itself would be consumed. The light grew, the sounds it projected giggled and fluttered like a parrot imitating a politician turning into silly putty. The noise echoed and reverberated until it was so thunderous and deafening that even the core of the planet screamed for release out of fear of going deaf.

The glorious blaze, the symphony of eternity, underturned itself sideways and shot through Jimbo's body, destroying it. He had no use for it now. He had evolved into something that can not be described. He ascended to an existence we can not even dream, beyond even godhood, as even the gods were bound by mathematics. His essence, everything that made him what he was and what he would have been, expanded at several times the speed of light, like a ham kite being stretched into your imagination by two starving hounds. He became but a new fabric, a new tile on the quilt of possibilities. I thought I would be rent asunder, my internal organs swapping places like an anarchist's game of musical chairs.

As he seemingly vanished, just moments before he lost his ability or desire to communicate in our filthy, confined tongue, I could hear his final words on this plane.

"... Thank you..."

The deed done, I felt as if I had become like a very thin, watery jam. But I knew my mission was not complete. I had to continue. I had to keep building. I hoped this would give humanity a fighting chance, but if out of the trillions of lifeforms beyond space and time, even one survived, all of my joyous suffering would be worth it. Shaking, I picked up my phone and visited the UberEats website again.

Another Big Mac will be here in about half an hour.
One Of The Crappy Pokemon That Nobody Likes, March 18, 2018, 11:02:17 pm

This is a post so perfect I feel like I've stared into the sun just reading it.

My own pathetic contribution is: Ordered to at gunpoint.