Nice Try, Mickey D

Sorry, McDonald's.

Your commercial for the new iced coffee you're pimping--invented by Paul Newman, oooooh--may be cute, with the intern drinking it all before it gets to the guy he delivers it to, but honestly.

Please.

You really can't compete guys. This is New Hampshire. You can't swing a dead cat (not that I've killed mine for waking me up at 4 a.m. again or anything) (errrr...) without hitting at least three Dunkin Donuts chains. And unless you're adding crack to your iced coffee (and I actually think Dunks already has the patent on that, so again, nice try) I really don't think you're going to put much of a dent in their market.

I can think of no less than seven, seirously, between my apartment and my parents' house, depending on which way I go. But no matter which way I go? I drive down a road that has two within 300 yards of eachother. Seriously. There's even one that has drive-thrus on both sides.

I think the reason I always shunned Starbucks while living in D.C. was becuase I just don't believe in ordering coffee from anywhere but inside the cool leather comfort of my damn car. You just won't find me tapping my stillettos in a fricking line when I could be seated comfortably behind the wheel with Howard Stern on in the background.

That reminds me. The lady who gives me my iced coffee in the mornings is elderly. She really, actually, believe it or not, looks just like my Grammie.

So imagine my horror the other morning when I pressed down on my window to collect my coffee...and realized a second two late that Howard had a couple of porn stars riding his orgasm machine. And they were doing a rather good job of it. Loudly.

Grammie pretended she didn't hear, even though she had to have.

Grammies are cool like that.