It's been 97 days since I my last sip, bite, or sniff of a Dunkin' Donuts product. And as long as I stay firm in my convictions, I vow never to sip, bite, or sniff a Dunkin' product ever again.
I'm protesting. Or perhaps...I'm a lover scorned.
I created my first Masshole Lobstah design in January 2023. The OG looked pretty similar to the Masshole Lobstahs I make today, though there is one key difference: The original is holding a white cup with orange and pink DDs on the front — an homage to Dunkin's prior branding (a logo they canned in 2019 when they made the switch to just Dunkin').
Back then, I only had a few hundred followers, but among those few hundred followers, the Masshole Lobstah was a hit. It was the first design I created that sold out within the first few minutes of uploading it to my Etsy page. It resonated with Massachusetts-ians everywhere because we all know that guy.
It never crossed my mind that someone from the inside at Dunkin' would ever see my sweatshirts. So, after the first few batches were made and sold by the summer of 2023, I was shocked when I saw a message come in from a "Mattew" who was "reaching out on behalf of Dunkin'." It was an oh shit moment.
But lo...Matthew just wanted to give me tickets to Levitate's Music and Arts Festival on behalf of that year's sponsor, Dunkin'. "We've seen your designs incorporating Dunkin' into them — which we LOVE," Matthew wrote. And despite my thinking this was surely a scam, I was sent four tickets to Levitate, and I went. It was awesome.
So that was that. The Masshole Lobstahs were Dunkin' approved. I secured a copyright for the design and continued making them. I made Masshole Lobstah stickers. I learned how to screen print and started printing my own Masshole Lobstah t-shirts. They continued to get more popular between 2023 and 2025, but it wasn't until earlier this year, in February, that I posted a now-deleted video on Instagram showing off a few of my finished lobs that things really got serious.
The video skyrocketed to over one million views. My Instagram account saw over 10,000 new followers in just a few days. And I knew my life had really changed when my mom overheard a couple of ladies talking about the lobster video at the local library. It seemed that we (the lobsters, my brain worm, and I) had gone big time.
It was overwhelming, but it was also very cool. And what was even cooler was that Dunkin' reached out for the second time after another rep saw the video.
"Reaching out on behalf of Dunkin' as our team has seen your awesome upcycling business ... [and] the awesome Dunkin' details on many of your items," this new PR representative wrote, adding, "We're obsessed!" They wanted to send me "some Dunkin' goodies to continue fueling what we're sure are many long days/nights crafting these one-of-a-kind pieces." Okay, great!
The PR team sent me a Dunkin' branded swag bag filled with other silly Dunkin' branded stuff like socks, a random pouch, a koozie for iced coffee cups, and a bunch of $5 gift cards. Once again, I was thrilled the lobsters were Dunkin'-approved. I even thought, how fun would it be to put a Masshole Lobster on said swag bag and do some sort of giveaway? It would be a soft launch of the OHpleeze-Dunkin' love story — the will-they-won't-they of our generation, as some had definitely said. How romantic!
But then, on Friday, June 6, 2025, at 2:55 p.m. ET, I received an email with the subject line: "Use of DD Cup Logo on clothing and patches; Intellectual Property Violations." It was a cease and desist letter sent by a Washington D.C.-based law firm that represents Dunkin' Brands Inc., and it demanded that I “permanently discontinue any further sales or advertising of any items that display Dunkin’s trademarked cup or DD marks, any confusingly similar marks, or any other marks owned by Dunkin’.”
The letter goes on to state that my sweatshirts are “likely to lead consumers, who are familiar with our brand, to erroneously believe that [my] products and business are affiliated with, licensed by, or is in some other way, related to Dunkin’.”
Sorry, but does this look like a licensed Dunkin’ product to you?
“Moreover,” the letter states, “Dunkin’ has a right to protect its brand image and your display of a cigarette in connection with our client’s marks tarnishes the brand.”
Like...what!
I had until June 20th to comply with the stated demands or else Dunkin' retained the right to protect their trademark as they saw fit (a.k.a. sue my ass).
Obviously, I panicked. I forwarded the email to that PR person I had just talked to weeks prior, and she said, "Dunkin' has been a fan of your work, so I'm also surprised that there would be something like that shared with you." You and me both, sister!
Over the weekend, I became the Elle Woods of the South Shore. I dove so far into trademark law, parody law, and fair use that I nearly drowned. I researched the law firm that sent me the letter (it’s legit despite the lawyer spelling my business name wrong — rookie mistake, in my opinion!). I scrolled through all the trademarks Dunkin' Brands Inc. owns on the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office website (really interesting stuff, by the way). And by Monday, my brain worm convinced me that we had a case. I added “smart pant suit” to my thrift list.
However, later that same week, the only trademark lawyer that got back to me convinced me otherwise. "They have a lot more money than you do," he said. Rude of him to assume that, but regardless, he was right. I could try to switch the colors around, replace the DD with OH, turn the D's backwards, etc., but I would be poking the bear, he said. I’m already on Dunkin's radar and likely to get sued to death if I tried any funny business.
And yeah, okay. Dunkin' does have more money than me! Fine! So what?!
The PR team tried to ghost me, but I kept emailing them to the point where they somehow found my phone number (scary...?) and explained that yes, it was all real, and no, there's nothing they can do about it. The incredibly uncomfortable conversation ended with the PR rep saying to me, "We really do love your work, and I hope this doesn't change your opinion about the brand." Right...right...
So on June 20th, I sent my response and complied with the lawyer's demands. I removed all images of my original design from my website and social media accounts. I felt like a stubbed-out cigarette in Corporate America's ashtray.
But not for very long.
The entire thing actually got me incredibly fired up. Just wait until the people hear about THIS! I was literally pacing back and forth, rubbing my hands together like a cartoon villain, dreaming up a new cup design to stick it to them as if they, the second largest coffee chain in the world, would actually give a shit.
Eventually, I settled on the new iced coffee cup design, as well as a new hot cup design, both of which may or may not hint at a potential Dunkin' affiliation with certain colors. I don't know nothing about nobody. The overall Masshole-ness is a bit more subtle than originally intended, but if you know, you know — and it looks like people certainly do still know. Thank you to those who are still riding this wave with me.
And yes, just like anyone who drives past their ex's house, I do angrily glare and sometimes shout expletives at Dunkin' locations when I pass them, which gets old because they're literally around every corner. I'll get over it someday. Just not in this lifetime.
It was all very dramatic and incredibly stupid (I had to explain this whole thing to a real-life lawyer lest we forget!), but it makes for an excellent story to tell at a cocktail party. And lord knows I love a good cocktail party.
In my next post, I'll tackle what I call "responsible upcycling" (snob alert!) and the pitfalls that sometimes come along with the craft. Thanks for reading!