For the above reason, I say, "Thankful schmankful!" They do it on purpose, I am sure of it. It's the clean-living, young mother's crack-cocaine. And look what it does! No, that is not an actual photo of me, but it may as well be, and I blame it entirely on McDonald's Mocha Frappes. Don't argue. I have accurately identified where the blame lies. It does not lie on me, of course. McDonald's has engineered this product to keep you coming back for more, even if you don't really want one. You can't help yourself. The end result is a fat cow that used to resemble a young woman.
Fie on you, McDonald's! Fie on you, Mocha Frappes! A plague on both your houses! The next time I venture into your establishment, I refuse to purchase the frappe devil. I think I'll get an M&M McFlurry, instead.
Doh!
