I tend to like milkshakes, although I don’t often stray far from vanilla in terms of flavor. I think I like them because of their hybrid state, the feeling that I am doing something that’s not quite real, like I’m drinking something solid.
I like it because it takes something I really like (ice cream) and makes it portable, but unlike its sister – the ice cream cone – isn’t something that can become a sticky mess.
I like them because the experience of drinking one changes as time passes. Initially, good thick milkshakes are a challenge for your mouth and jaw muscles, but a pleasant one. As time goes on, and your mouth gets more tired, the drink becomes weaker – almost as if it knew what you wanted! – keeping the mouth strength to coagulation ratio near equal throughout the entire drink.
Lastly, I like milkshakes because they’re like an unhealthy version of milk. Anything that can take something that’s purported to be part of a balanced diet and turn it into a luxurious and sinful dip into slowly becoming fat is a winner in my book.
Good job, milkshakes of the world.
I suppose I also find it amusing that the word could also be a euphemism for the posterior.