Don’t fall for the autumnbots
The other night I saw one of those creepy anti-drug commercials. A scary-looking addict sat in a bathroom stall, scratching her scabs: “Don’t try meth. Not even once,” she cried, warning us about the dangerous addictive nature of meth. It reminded me of pumpkin spice.
Is it me, or has pumpkin spice taken over the world?
Every year I tell myself, “This is the year when it dies out,” but every fall they keep finding more things to put pumpkin into: pumpkin spice cookies, candles, egg nog, hemorrhoid cream ...
It’s out of control. Bath and Body Works alone has come out with 100 new pumpkin-scented products.
My wife bought one of them: the “Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin” body wash. Last Friday she asked me if I had seen her bottle of it. I was too embarrassed to tell her I ate it over ice cream.
Then there’s the “Salted Caramel Pumpkin Cupcake” body lotion. I can only assume this is designed for the woman whose husband gets physically aroused by the smell of pastries. There’s probably a few of these sick and demented perverts out there. At least, I hope so. I don’t want to be the only one.
Coffee, muffins, cereal. It never ends. I stopped by Nick N’ Willy’s the other day when I saw them advertising a pumpkin pizza. I casually mentioned this to my wife and her eyes lit up. “Is it a hot pizza or dessert one?” she asked excitedly.
I didn’t know. At the time, the whole idea sounded so disgusting, I had no interest in delving further into the matter. If some restaurant advertises “prairie dog lasagna,” you don’t ask if it comes with salad.
Pumpkin is just squash with a better PR guy. If you don’t believe me, try asking the barista for a squash latte.
I bring all this up because today is the first day of autumn, and we as a society wouldn’t even have to deal with this pumpkin spice addiction if not for those few, twisted souls who actually love fall. My wife is among this set of freaks I refer to as “autumnbots.”
These are people whose minds have been corroded from inhaling too much potpourri.
The only part of their brain matter still intact is the part that has memorized recipes for dishes involving root vegetables. While it’s just the first day of fall, the autumnbots have had their tub of sweaters and boots out since June. They are the only people I know who will talk to their crockpots.
Autumnbots also love their colors. “Did you see the colors?” they ask. “It’s Color Sunday! You have to see the colors! Let’s go see the colors!”
I’ve seen the colors. They’re yellow. Sometimes red. There’s two of them, which is 36 less than the ones I get on my high-def, 55-inch flat screen, AND without traffic on the mesa.
I know it’s the new trendy season, but fall sucks. It means winter is coming. People who like autumn should be tested for mental illness. They’re disturbed. How else would you describe someone who looks forward to a dark, cold season where everything dies?
“We get to eat bread and soup now!” they say. As if there was federal statutes prohibiting pre-equinox soup consumption.
“Well, at least it’s not 100 degrees anymore!” No. It’s minus-10.
Spring and summer are rays of hope. They shout with joy: “We’re here! Enjoy the sun and flowers!”
Fall just barks at us angrily, “Here’s some dead leaves. Pick them up. And you better get that furnace serviced soon.”
Nevertheless, we need to show some tolerance toward the autumnbots.
Let’s let them have their 92 days of soups and sweaters and carbs, because fall will be over before you know it. Until then, we can use their sad example to send a strong, powerful message of prevention to our children.
Don’t try pumpkin spice. Not even once.