That is all.

Okay. A few words of exegesis.

I am a fierce Pinkberry partisan. I love the stuff. More than Sixteen Handles. More than all the other Pinkberry wannabes out there. And no, I don’t care if technically something else came first, and it’s Pinkberry that’s the wannabe.

But last night we were rolling down 14th Street and we thought, hmm, there’s a Red Mango. And a Pinkberry right across the street! Let’s be adventurous.

We asked for samples of two flavors, and they were yucky. But we figured, well, the PLAIN must be good. Right? At Pinkberry, that’s all I ever get. Fuck the flavors. “Small original please. No toppings.” Or, once in a great while, if I’m feeling frisky, i add mochi.

But NO. The plain was not good. In fact, it was BAD. It tasted like it was trying too hard to imitate the flavor of conventional dairy-based soft ice cream. Except made with milk from sinful, perverted cows.

This frog would taste better. Photo by me.

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