First off, let me say that I’m not a fan of McDonald’s. Other than the Southwestern salad, I find their food largely unappetizing. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t eat a fry or two because okay…their fries are pretty tasty. But the burgers are weird and have little hard things in them and the nuggets, despite claims to be all breast meat, have the occasional weird rubbery thing in them AND, I read somewhere (and this MAY be an urban legend) that, were you to put one in a sealed glass container, their burgers look exactly the same a year later, as in NOT DECOMPOSING.
So yeah..ungoodness all around—and we haven’t even discussed the Happy Meals for little kids promoting PG-13 movies thing or the obesity thing or the not-humanely-raised eggs issue.
Okay, so now I’ve painted a pretty accurate picture of how I feel about the golden arches. Not exactly “lovin’ it”.
But then they went and did something totally diabolical.
MORE diabolical, I mean.
They introduced the Frappé.
It comes in mocha and caramel.
And I hate myself for saying this but THEY. ARE. GOOD.
And easy to get.
Not unlike a visit to your conveniently located neighborhood crack house.
I don’t know how many calories are in them and I don’t want to know. I just want my fricken daily Frappé.
It’s cold, creamy coffee goodness soothing the helltastic summer heat…
It’s caffeine, however meager, coursing through my veins and perking up my wilting, heat-stricken spirits…
Like any good junkie, I have a love/hate relationship with my dealer.
I hate them until I need a fix and then, despite all attempts at resistance, I find myself taking a different route so I can hit the drive thru.
And like any good junkie, I feel guilty and ashamed when it’s all gone and make promises to quit.
I NEED an intervention. PLEASE!
Right after I finish this giant mocha Frappé—you know—last hurrahs and such…