When I drive home from work, I usually play a little game of chicken with myself: how close can I get to pulling into the fast food drive-thru while still convincing myself that it was an accident.

If I didn’t intend to drive up to the Golden Arches, then I can’t blame myself for eating the calories.

It’s almost as if the Hamburgler force-fed me delicious burgers with a sesame seed bun and secret sauce.

I can’t be blamed for my own actions. The fictional restaurant character made me.