Yesterday I joked about the fact that at 12:00:01AM this morning stores would swing into overdrive and get rid of the orange, yellow and red and bring out the red, green, silver and gold…heaven forbid we go less than 15 minutes between hearing Ghostbusters and Good King Wenceslas. Today, I saw two things that cemented that mental anguish.
1) I swung by the Dollarstore to pick up some of those “I can get by without these but I’m here so I’ll get them” things. Dry erase markers, sticky lint rollers, AA batteries that don’t have to last forever, some pens…and as I walked down the aisle, I caught this sight:
One side had already been taken over by decorations and wrapping, who knows what other low-cost lead-base-painted “good-enough-for-that-person” items will fill the cavernous voids I saw before me. I had yet to hear any holiday music, but rest assured, it couldn’t be too far off.
As I finished my shopping for the day (after a quick stop at a clothing store to pick up a shirt that goes with the Sig-O’s dress, which I actually held up to check the shade of blue for) I decided I had earned a reward for being an adult and doing adult things. So I went to the most adult place to eat: McDonalds. And that’s where I found this:
That, my friends, is a Triple Thick Ginger Frost Milkshake. One could only assume it tasted like gingerbread mixed with ice cream. I’m not one. I couldn’t assume. I had to try it. Nevermind a medium has over 700 calories, that’s not the point. Wait, scratch that. That right there IS THE ENTIRE POINT. The holidays are coming, full of over-saturation, over-consumption, over-stimulation, this gummish somewhat-milk-based concoction is the VERY thing we need to get ready for the holidays. It’s like an entire carol book pumped through a straw. The taste? Just enough ginger, sweet and spicyish, and much softer on the roof of my mouth than any ginger cookies I try to soften up with tubs of milk every year. My insulin levels were only lower than the feeling of the season…which although initially rising like a fresh fruit cake, are more and more clouding with a Scroogish sense of impending doom…
…there are 53 days until Christmas actually gets here. That’s too many sleeps before Sanity.