Sweet Baby Jesus, y'all. I know I was shut in the last three-ish weeks with the world's worst panic attack, but how the fuck did I miss the Autumn Apocalypse?!
Sure, I did spend the last 17 or so days in my bed, curtains drawn, my only exposure to the outside world a Pony Express-esque arrangement where takeout was transported via a chain of hand-offs between a fry cook, a delivery guy, my husband, and me. But with fall hysteria spreading as rapidly as it has, you would have thought that some of that pumpkin spice would have rubbed off on the three dudes responsible for getting me my buffalo wings and that I would have caught a whiff of all things gourd.
Instead, I existed in a naive pumpkin-free bubble, so when I stepped out of my house for the first time this month, BAM! It seemed EXACTLY like a pumpkin had given birth to a litter of orange-colored babies and then went on a rampage and threw them all about. In case you're wondering what that looks like, here's Stage One of that scenario:
My first clue that something was horribly wrong was when I went to my local grocery store and found THIS:
I didn't realize we'd reached full-on crisis mode until I asked my husband, Chris, just exactly WHAT the fuck you are supposed to serve with squash-themed salsa, and he did a quick Google search on his phone and found THESE:
Is the pumpkin spice industry piping pot through our ventilation systems? Because, I'm telling you, I'd have to be high as hell and enduring the world's worst case of munchies to put that shit in my mouth.
Anyway, I was so repulsed by how far the whole pumpkin spice craze has run amok that I then said that before long, I'd be able to buy pumpkin spice lube.
Chris tapped at his phone and then showed me THIS:
I know it's not lube, but STILL, that's too fucking far. Too far! BAD lady bit industry! Go sit in a pumpkin patch and think about what you've done.
Fortunately, the douche was a gimmick produced by Saturday Night Live, but I am telling y'all, I REALLY believed it was a thing. What's even worse? For, like, half a second, I actually considered ORDERING that crap, because why not have a delightfully fall-scented female flower?
Then that got me thinking: What OTHER pumpkin-spiced nonsense is out there? If my cooter can conceivably smell like a seasonal candle, then what else could be attacked by the pumpkin spice onslaught?
(Un)fortunately, the Internet's got my back, and I was able to envision with startling clarity what horrors could befall us.
What about a pumpkin spice condom?
What about for those times when I can't have sex?
And while we're focusing on my lady bits, how about THIS?
And for cleanup afterwards, obviously, I'll use THIS...
And if we're playing a word association game, then "toilet paper" makes me think "shitting," and then "shitting" makes me think "Get the Pepto." So that's what I'd have to do. I'd have to get pumpkin spice Pepto.
And while I'm in the medicine aisle, I should grab a few things for the inevitable allergies that the season brings.
And since the personal hygiene aisle is just one lane over, I better get THIS...
Or THESE, if I'm on the go...
Okay, y'all. I could go on forever, but I think you get my point. This pumpkin spice shit is cray-cray.
Not that I'm saying it's all horrid.
I mean, LOOK AT THESE:
I would murder all of Manhattan to get those in my mouth.
But on the flip side, I'd murder all of Mississippi to keep OUT this shit:
So, just for safety's sake, let's review...
Good pumpkin spice:
Bad pumpkin spice:
Really, really good:
Really, really bad:
A culinary monstrosity:
Seriously, folks, this world is scary. I think I'm just going to go back to panicking and having my food delivered to me in bed. Thankfully, I know no fool would EVER try to pumpkinify chicken wings.
Oh, wait... No.... It can't be...