There’s one very tragic and unfortunate thing about this milkshake.
It comes with a severe case of the Milkshake song getting stuck in your head for hours on end. And if you’re anything like me it goes something like this, “my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard and they’re like, it’s better than yours”…repeat x54234756 because you have absolutely no idea what she says after that since you’re so preoccupied with how utterly annoying the song is in the first place.
There are two songs from this century so far that I absolutely, 100% cannot stand. Crazy by Gnarles Barkley (Gnarls? Is that even for real?) and Milkshake.
Thankfully, the actual milkshake was pretty damn good and worth the annoyance.
So far at least. It’s been about 18 hours, if it continues past 24 I have the right to revoke that statement.
Milkshakes weren’t really my thing growing up. We didn’t have any Dairy Queens near me, just the hole in the wall local ice cream joint that was a once a week treat in the summer. I was way more of a vanilla cone with cherry dip or rainbow sprinkles kind of kid though than a milkshake one. If I was getting ice cream, I wanted to be able to SEE it, eat it, lick it, not drink it.
So my only memory of a milkshake is actually from college. It involved my two best college friends, a loooong happy hour at the Gingerbread Man with a few too many whiskey sours, a 2 mile walk to Dairy Queen where local neighborhood trash cans were picked up, put on our heads and moved down the street and a really delicious strawberry cheesecake milkshake of some sort.
The walk back also involved a sober friend with a car picking us up, people failing about on the sidewalks and passing out in bed by 9pm but that’s beside the point.
We’ve grown up a bit since then. In fact, one of those friends had a baby two days ago, so I’d like to say that this is the grown up version of that milkshake too.
Although, I’d totally be game for happy hour and a few whiskey sours again.