It’s August 31st, and you know what that means: at the stroke of midnight tonight, everything will turn into a pumpkin.
It’s like that scene in Cinderella when the fairy godmother transforms the orange gourd into a carriage–only in reverse–and in this story, Cinderella is a millenial hipster and the fairy Godmother is smoking pumpkin-flavored weed.
How else do we explain the slippery slope we’ve gone down in our consumption of all things pumpkin spice?
It started in 2003 with the invention of the pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks. The PSL was a hit because it offered a tasty excuse for America to eat liquid pie without feeling like gluttonous fat asses.
Then along came a few other products:
Coffee-mate. Why not?
Ice cream. Fucking delicious.
Candles. I’m smelling what you’re cooking. Literally.
After that, things got a little crazy:
Nutrigrain bars. Well, those are basically miniature pies we trick ourselves into consuming as breakfast. Objection overruled.
Almonds. I suppose.
Cheerios. That’s weird, but whatever.
Twinkies. Who am I to judge?
Oreos. But why, though?
M&Ms. What’s wrong with plain chocolate?
Before we knew it, pumpkin spice became the en vogue novelty gimmick of marketers everywhere:
Pretzels. Bit of a stretch, fellas.
Greek yogurt. Oh the humanity!
Dish soap. I can’t even.
Laundry detergent. What if I don’t want my underwear to smell like dessert?
Lip gloss. Revolting.
Wine. WHAT FRESH HELL IS THIS?
America, we have taken it too far. Our adoration of pumpkin spice has gone from cute to cult-like. We are worshiping at the altar of the holy spherical squash.
What’s next, pumpkin spice maxi pads? Mouth wash? Window cleaner?
At the risk of being excommunicated from society, I have a confession to make: I’m more of an apple pie gal myself.
So tomorrow, when the consumers of America are getting all hot and bothered over pumpkin spice carbohydrates, I’ll be silently judging them from behind my plain latte, because pumpkin spice needs to calm the fuck down.
Someone had to say it.