Holly Bailey

To cheer us all up, I force us to go to the local Baskin-Robbins and order Daiquiri Ices. I haven’t eaten one of these since high school, and it tastes MUCH more synthetic than I remember. Jason’s face, as he samples it, recalls one of those YouTube videos of a baby eating a lemon for the first time. He shudders. His expression passes through stages of betrayal, disgust, anger at God. “It tastes like going down on a My Little Pony,” he says finally.

Patricia Lockhart visits Baskin-Robbinson her Grub Street Diet (via NY Mag)

I used to date a guy who was totally obsessed with Daiquiri Ice—and I mean obsessed like probably should have owned his own Baskin-Robbins franchise that served only Daiquiri Ice obsessed. I tried literally one tiny lick on one of our early dates and found it to be so disgusting that I felt like I had discovered what Meatloaf was talking about in "I Would Do Anything For Love (But I Won’t Do That)."

I could not even pretend I thought it was good or that I understood why he loved it so much. Thankfully, our mutual appreciation of the chocolate dip cone at Dairy Queen bought us a few more years, and there were even moments when I’d run to the Baskin-Robbins and buy him a hand-packed pint of Daiquiri Ice to show him how much I cared. But though he sometimes tried to change my mind, I never tried Daiquiri Ice again. Gross.

So, as you can imagine, I found this anecdote in the latest Grub Street Diet—which is a really fun column, by the way—to be pretty entertaining. Though, for the record, I bet going down on a My Little Pony tastes better than Daiquiri Ice—though the seven-year-old version of me is so horrified at even saying that. (Forgive me, Snuzzle! Forgive me, Moondancer!)

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