Oh My God, I LOVE Cheese Fries!

So Mandy was over here the other night, which is always amusing because there's no sense between the two of us.  Ric was on call, and since she's a wonderful friend, and I hate being home alone in the middle of the night when he gets called in, she was here until something like 4 am.  We watched Sex and the City, the Movie, pausing every fifteen minutes or so to either discuss something the movie brought up or to laugh our asses off at how incredibly funny we can be.  We also discovered while watching the movie that bagborroworsteal.com is a real website and could cause infinite financial woes for the both of us.  I also learned that Mandy cannot pronounce Badgley-Mischka, so she decided she'd just call them "Mishishka" from now on, which led to me pulling up an audio site of how to pronounce various designers' names.  For the next hour, every time she spoke, I replied by hitting play, and for some reason, this was hilarious...could've been the five rum and cokes and three cosmopolitans that we drank while watching the movie.  Who knows?  Ric returns home to find two drunk, hungry, and goofy women counting out a huge pile of change mined from the innards of my couch.  $8, yee-haw!  We were ready to go to Krystal!  We pile in the car, stop at the gas station for cigarettes, then head to Krystal.  Working the drive-thru window is the clone of Anjelica Huston circa Ever After--this girl's eyebrows are SOLID kohl pencil, visible from the moon (NASA told me this, so it's a fact), and Mandy cannot resist the urge to announce to everyone within a three planet radius that those are "some eyebrows, WOO!" at the top of her lungs.  Here comes the sidebar.  See, "the top of one's lungs" is often used idiomatically to mean "very loudly" but the phrase, in some cases, can be literal.  Take my group of girlfriends.  The misfortune of having met most of my closest friends in chorus is that all of us have remarkable lung capacity, we know how to support sound via the diaphragm, and when you say "the top of the lungs" in reference to one of us, it's louder than the top of anyone else's lungs.  People in Bangladesh are probably curious about the eyebrows of this Krystal employee; alas, this is one case where even Google can't help them.  Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.  Miss Eyebrows glares at us, walks out of view of the window (this is most likely so she can spit in every one of our Krystals and in our chili-cheese fries.  Our cheese-o-nator is now a spit-o-nator, but that was fine with us because we had enough alcohol in our systems to sterilize ebola), then Miss Eyebrows returns to give us our saliva-infested meal.  As she passes the chili-cheese fries through the window, Mandy lights up like the Griswold house at Christmas (or even moreso--check out http://www.socyberty.com/Holidays/The-Wildly-Wacky-World-of-Crazy-Christmas-Lights.335767  for some true comedy!). This is where Mandy exclaims, and she's totally serious as sad as that is, in this really high-pitched squeal, "Oh my GOD!! Cheese fries!!!! I LOVE Cheese FRIES!" and grabs the box from Ric.  Shocked silence.  A man inside the restaurant bursts out laughing.  Tidal wave laughter.  Mandy is oblivious.  She has cheese fries.  All is right with the world.