Every summer when I come back to North America, there is one thing that I look forward to and that is McDonalds’ breakfast sandwiches.

There. I said it out loud. I feel more free having admitted my issues.

Look, I don’t know if it's the work of food scientists, hypnosis, or just plain old magic, but McDonalds’ breakfast sandwiches are spectacular every time I eat them. Every. Single. Time. And in typical Randall P. Girdner fashion, I do not vary in my choices: I always get the breakfast burritos. They are food that has been placed upon the Earth by Greek gods; magical artifacts given to us by a trickster deity of some sort, meant to distract us from our original purpose so that we might forever be enthralled with something so utterly nutrition-less that we can do little more than succumb to its charms.