So here’s a scoop (JK, not even close): Starbucks — at least in America — has released a fruitcake frappuccino, just in time for all of us to say, “Was 2016 not bad enough?”
I mean, look. I understand that some of you like fruitcake. My mom, for example, loves fruitcake. She’s fine with it, which is something she didn’t pass down to me. I think I’ve seen my dad eat it once, too. Someone in our family also brings it to Christmas Eve and I don’t know who it is, but it’s safe to assume they’re into it as well, or they are given it yearly as a gift (“a gift”) because someone has unloaded unto them a terrible burden and they refuse to keep it in their home.
Basically, what I’m saying is that fruitcake is a terrible thing and it is exactly what Mercutio meant when he cried, “A plague upon both your houses!” before he died. Because also it’s like no matter how much fruitcake is consumed, it somehow still looks like more fruitcake is left than anybody even started with. And then it gets dryer and dryer and nobody throws it out because they “feel bad” so it becomes part of the kitchen decor, permanently. Fruitcake is the worst, and you are wrong if you like it.
Bringing me to my next point: I hate mincemeat pies too. What the fuck are their problem? To start, anything containing raisins — minus Glosettes, which are the greatest treat — is an atrocity. Raisins are terrible. Everybody hates raisins. The fastest way to tell somebody you hate them is to give them anything containing raisins. “I baked this for you,” you say, while handing them oatmeal chocolate-chip and raisin cookies. And then you watch their faces contort in disgust while they discover those terribly dehydrated grapes as you make eye contact and say, “You are my enemy and I wish you the worst.”
Not that you would need to say the actual words because they would already know.
Also, what is even the flavour we’re going for with mincemeat? Every time somebody offers one to me I want to set fire to a tree.
And this brings me to my next and final point: if your Christmas soiree doesn’t contain a shrimp ring, you’ve failed us all. All of us, even the people who weren’t invited to whatever party you were throwing. (I can feel when somebody doesn’t have a shrimp ring. And it disgusts me.) Truly, how dare you. When I go anywhere, I expect and crave a shrimp ring. Especially before eating a freakishly large meal of turkey and stuffing and foods that have nothing to do with seafood at all. I want to eat nearly an entire shrimp ring and then I want to wonder aloud why I’m not hungrier for the meal that takes actual time to cook. This is what I, and all people, deserve. And when you don’t supply your guests with a ring of small de-thawed animals, you have truly made the Fruitcake Frappuccino of Christmas dinner mistakes.
Which, I should add, I am for sure going to order and try anyway because 2016 hasn’t been bad enough.
