The first time I went to try Schweddy Balls, Ben & Jerry’s new limited-batch faux flavor, I got shut down.
Me (whispering): Oh, hi. Do you have the (awkward laugh) Schweddy Ball flavor?
Cashier: WE'RE ALL OUT!
Me: Are you being serious?
Cashier: Absolutely! But there’s someone on their way with a new batch right now. She just texted me. She’s at Union Station. Do you want to stick around for 30 minutes?
It's not like I'd get blue balls from waiting but nobody needs novelty frozen dessert that badly. Fast forward a week and I forgot I ever wanted to try the “Fair Trade vanilla ice cream with a hint of rum” in the first place. That is until I found this online:
“The vulgar new flavor has turned something as innocent as ice cream into something repulsive.” Really, OneMillionMoms.com, a project of the American Family Association, a division of Pointless Protests R' Us? This is what you get outraged about?
A brief look-see at the other “active issues” that get these PTA presidents’ collective panties in a bunch revealed that ice cream is just the tip of the iceberg. With bizarro world headlines like “Dancing with the Stars' has Spun Out of Control!” and “Petition for PBS Not to Marry Bert and Ernie on ‘Sesame Street’” it's clear that the women behind OMM need to do just that. Breath, girl. Take a chill pill and re-lax.
So as part of my long-running civil disobedience series, where I do all the crazy crap I normally do in the hopes that a crazy conservative will witness me doing it and be scandalized by reality, I took a huge lick of B & J’s Schweddy Balls.
Here’s the thing though. It’s kinda gross.
I don’t know if it was the lunch I didn’t eat or my general abhorrence for “fudge-covered rum and milk chocolate malt balls,” but this SNL-inspired frozen treat is not for me. I seriously feel sick.
Schweddy sort of tastes like Butter Pecan, which is my favorite flavor of life. But much like their anatomical counterparts, the Schweddy ice cream seems loaded with salt, which is the flavor of death. Also, there were so many different textures to contend with -- smooth buttery, then brine-y, then crunchy. That is not sexy. My taste buds felt put upon almost exactly like that scene in Bridesmaids when Jon Hamm tries to get Kristen Wiig to put her face in his lap.
But whatever, I did it for justice! I did it so the stuffy ladies at OMM wouldn't win the culture war in my mouth.
Still, I couldn’t help but wonder (sorry for the Bradshaw throwback) what the female equivalent of Schweddy Balls would be. Because personally I think it'd taste way better. Not to get all sex and food metaphor overload on you but really what's more lickable? Poonannie’s Peaches N’ Cream? Whispering Apple Pie? These are terrible. This is also why I’ll never write for “Mad Men.”
"Hairy Donuts! Misty Clams? Salmon Wraps!" Not too surprisingly my guy friends jumped all over the chance to make up funny names for female naughty bits. Unfortunately, I forgot to mention these had to be tasty-sounding. Is it impossible to come up with a delicious name for a dame's downtown dessert? Let’s have a brain-storming sesh. Annnnd go.