Dear McDonald's Drive-Thru Lady

I am disappointed in you.

You KNOW that I never come to see you. Like. Ever. MAYBE every 6 months. And...whenever I come to see you, it is only for your chocolate dipped ice cream cone. I don't want that apple pie for .50 cents. Quit asking.

So, considering this one-time-every-6-months thing, you would THINK that you would be able to deliver my delicious chocolate dipped ice cream cone with some flair, wouldn't you? The optimal cone being hard chocolate on top, soft ice cream in the middle, and just enough freeze that each bite and/or lick equals a slow melt and a happy mama. Just like the picture. Just like the picture.

But no, sireeeeeeeee. Instead, I get a "sorry it took so long and it's dripping down my arm because I didn't dip it right and here's an extra napkin because it's definitely gonna fall off this cone in about 30 seconds," delivery.

What did I ever do to you, dear McDonald's drive-thru lady? Is it because I didn't get that apple pie? Seriously? For gosh sakes. I'll buy that apple pie!!!

I want you to know that you single handedly almost made me crash 4 times as I tried to fin-angle eating/licking/swallowing/avoiding half-hard-half-soft chocolate dripping down my shirt while driving. That should be a new law. No dripping while driving. I'll write my congressman now.

So thanks, dear McDonald's drive-thru lady. You have officially made my one-time-every-six months visit turn into one-time-every-eight-months.

I hope you are happy.

P.S. I think your apple pies are nasty.