The yoghurt paradox

by a frozen Coke, and an urgent need to break the seal.

It is under the (rather unflattering) fluorescent restaurant lights that we rest our throbbing feet, basking in the air-con in the summertime while we debrief the events of the evening. Sometimes tears are shed over a 24-piece Chicken McNugget box, and while one friend bursts into hysterics, another inevitably brings up that one video of pinkslime-meat in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. It’s a method with very little success, and they’re often met with a chorus of groans and gags as green-tinged faces become greener. There always seems to be an underpaid worker, or a year 10 student working for $16 an hour, hovering beside the bucket and mop at all times. You can almost hear them praying to the venerable Ronald McDonald that they don’t have to clean up someone’s midnight Big Mac chunder.

In a disconnected world, perhaps one in which you go through entire days speaking only your coffee order and a rushed ‘thank you!’ to the bus driver, there is something titillating about the shared experience of crowding around the pick up counter; receipt clutched in hand and moaning about the wait. A flustered worker calls out numbers in what appears to be no particular order — 117 then 124 and back to 119 — and every time their mouth opens, the crowd lurches forward in unison, with bated breath, each person hoping to be the next.

It is a most curious sight, and a most curious collection of people: at one end of the counter hunches a lanky fellow in flannel pyjamas, eyes adorned with the most spectacular purple bags. Beside him, a gym-bro twice his size clutches the remnants of a protein shake, subtly peering at his flexed reflection in the restaurant window, oblivious to snickering observers. And at the back of the growing crowd of UberEats drivers are girls with glittered cheekbones and feather boas, still riding concert highs and bouncing in time to the tune of the beeping fry machine. But above their differences, they are united under the banner of greasy fries and corporate America.

Although the crowd eventually dissipates, the camaraderie born of eating defrosted mystery meat of unclear origin persists for much longer. And when one person complains about soggy paper straws, we all nod in agreement.

Long live Ronald McDonald.

outcome, if I want security in the society I indulge.

Is it a Bootstrap Object, a self-

LAMEAH NAYEEM

Was once the victim of a coordinated cockroach assault [@30nay.la]

SIMONE MADDISON

Lover of cowboy boots, hater of cows and boys [@simonemaddison_]

JEM RICE

Owns too many novelty socks [@jemmyfee]

NATHAN PHILLIS

Fully convinced Narcissus had the right idea [@nathan_phillis]

NICOLE CADELINA

Libra hatchling, faux-film critic and part-time pious poet [@ni.muy]

MELISSA ANG

Voted “most likely to send her airpods swimming in the washing machine” [@meldidntwakeup]

MEGHAN PRICE

Thriving scarlet fever survivor [@meghan.price18]

MAEVE HOPPER

A cautious yet enthusiastic optimist [@maevehopper]

JO STAAS

Cannot live without matcha [@jengellbells]

ABSENT

CONTRIBUTORS LISTED BELOW \/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

ABBEY Y U

Piously praying for an alien encounter [@abbeyyuuu]

ARNAV GUPTA

Recently turned Frank Green- enthusiast [@arnavatpug]

IQRA SAEED

One-pitch wonder [@iqra.saaed]

HUW BRADSHAW

Big fan of homer [@childsouljaboy]

ANGELINA CHAHINE

*inserts witty statement describing self in 10 words* [@m4x.jpeg]

WREN PEARSON

Professional hater of coriander [@wren.shot]

M Ng

NGUYÊN

Eternally longs for summer

ANEKEAINI CHEOK

Would have been institutionalised last century [@anekeaini]

ASHER MCTAYLOR

Aspiring Cloud of Gaseous Consciousness, waste of a candidate for any procedure [@thewrongquintuplet]

KUMIKO DELANEY

Bunny mum, art student [@kumiko000o0]

GRACE STREET

On exchange in France, won’t shut up about it [@gracestreet__]

STELLA ZIKOS

On exchange in Copenhagen, and lover of all things “hygge” [@stel.z5]