I’d be standing underneath the waterfall, my favorite beverage splashing down upon my head, and I’d think, “I wonder if this waterfall of beer can help me get boobs?” If I were in a horrible automobile accident, I would lie there, crushed under the weight of my own car, wondering how it would affect my chances of getting boobs. If I owned a house and it burned down, I’d watch all my possessions burn, wondering whether the sympathy from this tragedy would include boobs.

Summertime always makes me think of boobs more than usual. Perhaps it’s an ancient mating call buried into human genes, calling us to the breeding season, or the fact that women dress more provocatively when it’s warm. Either way, summertime is boobtime every time.

The greatest thing about summer boobs is their omnipresence. They’re everywhere. Like the ghost of Jesus, wherever you go, they are near you. In Duluth, Los Angeles, Minneapolis, New York, or Superior, good Christians can rest easy knowing boobs will be there. To paraphrase Augustine and his interesting take,”In boobs things are, rather than boobs are in any place.” Most men would agree that every item can be imagined as a boob, and every boob is indeed an item.

Sometimes, when people I don’t like are talking to me, I imagine their head is a giant boob.

Of course, everywhere you go you’ll also find dicks, but that doesn’t sound as pretty, now does it?

Boobs are not just an event for men. Women – whether they want to admit it or not – are also fascinated by boobs. You’d think having some of their own would make them as sick of them as I am of the Will Smith song “Summertime”, but many women still have a great curiosity about other women’s boobs. While for most it tends to be more of a competitive fascination – like studying the Zagros Mountains before entering the War in Iraq – it’s still an obsession of sorts. It’s one area where my female friends and I could bond meaningfully if they continue speaking to me after reading this column.

I wouldn’t, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned about women over the years, it’s that the ones I hang out with put up with far more of my crap than I ever would.

I don’t know what women look forward to in the summertime. Men in shorts? Ugh. We’re hairy. If women were turned on by men in shorts, the gorilla exhibit at the zoo would be overflowing with women all winter long. Perhaps women look forward to summer just for the nice weather. It’s hard for me to understand how climate could be more exciting than boobs, but to each their own.

The month of May begins this week. Summertime is near and our senses are tingling. For women, this tingling in their brains is for the right reasons. For men, the tingling isn’t even in our brains. Regardless of the reasons, we can all agree that it’s just nice to be tingling.

I’ve never been a coffee man. Hot drinks that make your breath smell like a dead rat (yes mom, that’s what your breath smells like) were never really my thing. A cold soda at 6am is enough for me. Like a beautifully-timed punch in the face, the carbonation wakes me up in the bluntest way possible. Especially if I drink it right after brushing my teeth.

Coffee has always been too complicated for me. You have to add things like sugar and cream, and calculate how much is needed. This is all stuff I can’t do when I’m half-asleep. With Starbucks coffee, things have only gotten worse. What was once a 50 or 75-cent cup of basic Joe is now a $4 grande flavored with sugary treats. Vanilla? Carmel? Peppermint with whipped cream? That’s not a coffee, that’s a goddamn ice cream sundae.

Coffee originally came to prominence for two reasons: It was strong like a kick in the groin and it was cheap. If your father knew what you were doing to the time-honored tradition of coffee, he’d punch you straight through the front door of an orphanage and throw in your birth certificate after you.

To the untrained eye, the introduction of iced coffee at McDonald’s may seem like bandwagon jumping performed solely for profit. But I think there’s a greater scheme at work here. McDonald’s is getting into the business of anarchy. America likes trendy coffee? Then we’re going to offer it too, thereby ruining it for everyone.

I never thought I’d say this, but I really love McDonald’s all of a sudden. Sure, they have a horribly unethical menu, where even items that should be healthy – like salads and fish sandwiches – are so pumped full of fat and sugar that your urine will turn white for 12 hours after eating them. But anarchy? I can support that.

For years, my upscale co-workers, knowing I prefer cold drinks, have been trying to force iced coffee upon me. I’ve always refused, my cheap nature not allowing me to pay $4 for a drink with no alcohol in it. But thanks to McDonald’s, all I have to do is mention the restaurant’s inferior iced coffee and my co-workers immediately abandon me, deeming me unworthy of their companionship. Awesome!

Now I just need to wait for a fanatic fan base to form. Once this cloudy tap water from the employee restroom disguised as iced coffee becomes popular, trendy people will get annoyed. It shouldn’t take long. Just look at this hilarious messageboard post, written by one of the millions of hicks who will soon be arguing endlessly about the superiority of McDonald’s coffee:

 
“I love the taste of the vaniilla iced coffee. It blows the expensve starbucks crap out of the water.

Tastes amazing.”

 
That’s not fake. I couldn’t make that up if I tried. It’s an actual messageboard post from a food blog. After five years of people like this forcing arguments about coffee on trendy people, flavored coffee will be as uncool as Limp Bizkit albums. Here’s another messageboard post:

 
“I fear that I may have suffered internal and possibly external injuries.
Once it is safe to leave the house I will probably go buy another one because they are that flipping GOOD. I will just wait until I get home to drink it.”

 
Brilliant! If Billy Wilder made a comedy about bad coffee, that line would have been in it. The tides of trendiness are changing, America. Overpriced coffee – its 310 calories and 58 grams of sugar making Americans fatter – will soon be a thing of the past. To quote/ruin the words of Lady Macbeth, “Out, damned coffee! Out, I say!”