A Public Service Announcement
Eggnog is creepy.
This creepiness is mostly the fault of texture. It's too thick to be milk with spices in. It's too thin to be some sort of gingerbread-flavored milkshake concoction. And if you heat it up, the eggs it is presumably derived from rise up and do what eggs do when exposed to radiation: mutate.
Ok, fine, they just cook a bit. But it's still nasty. As soon as the stuff cools a tiny bit, it forms a skin ten times thicker than your ordinary milk skin, and maybe five times thicker than your average clam chowder skin, and attempts to sidle its way down your throat en slimy, gelatinous masse. It attempts to entangle your tongue in amorous embraces, imagining it has found one of its own kind. It sneaks into your throat like Odysseus's men, disguised as a giant wooden horse, except instead of hiding in a giant wooden horse the enemy is hiding in the mug, mimicking the exact color and form of the more liquid portions of the drink. Nevertheless, the simile stands, and both actions end in horrified recoil.
...to be fair, my eggnog was heated and without bourbon. Perhaps the horrible beastie that lurks within eggnon is cold-blooded, and sleeps when chilled. Maybe alcohol kills it. But I know this: not even spice cookies can alleviate the horror eggnog now holds for me.
Merry Christmas! :D
This creepiness is mostly the fault of texture. It's too thick to be milk with spices in. It's too thin to be some sort of gingerbread-flavored milkshake concoction. And if you heat it up, the eggs it is presumably derived from rise up and do what eggs do when exposed to radiation: mutate.
Ok, fine, they just cook a bit. But it's still nasty. As soon as the stuff cools a tiny bit, it forms a skin ten times thicker than your ordinary milk skin, and maybe five times thicker than your average clam chowder skin, and attempts to sidle its way down your throat en slimy, gelatinous masse. It attempts to entangle your tongue in amorous embraces, imagining it has found one of its own kind. It sneaks into your throat like Odysseus's men, disguised as a giant wooden horse, except instead of hiding in a giant wooden horse the enemy is hiding in the mug, mimicking the exact color and form of the more liquid portions of the drink. Nevertheless, the simile stands, and both actions end in horrified recoil.
...to be fair, my eggnog was heated and without bourbon. Perhaps the horrible beastie that lurks within eggnon is cold-blooded, and sleeps when chilled. Maybe alcohol kills it. But I know this: not even spice cookies can alleviate the horror eggnog now holds for me.
Merry Christmas! :D