Thursday, April 7, 2011

Boba Boba


I have something to announce:

I hate boba.

It is, as my good friend Emon says, something that people "either love or hate, but never in between." On the axis of love-hate, I feast on the negative end, espousing my hatred like prayer in a church. Something about it just rubs me the wrong way–the balls maybe. Those squishy, slimy little things feel weird in my mouth, sloshing in my saliva like micro-testicles. I've tried multiple flavors but never found one that didn't make me want to gag.

The reason I bring up this godforsaken drink is because it's the only thing that people around here ever sell on campus. I'm talking about clubs and Greeks, parking their tents around Ring Road, hawking their boba like it's some grade-A primo product. What I hate most is the assumption that everybody likes it. Whenever I ignore them, they give me this evil eye, as if to accuse me of some kind of prejudice, like my purchase was based on them selling it and not the product itself. Why else would I not buy something as delicious as boba? The truth is—I don't want to buy it, period.
 
The next time I pass by, know that it's not you, and it’s not me, it's just that boba sucks.