The Wonder of Blizzards

I have a vendetta against most fast food. Not only can I eat very little of it, being a flexitarian (word o' the month), but it usually comes from greasy, dirty places with teenaged workers (and, honestly, WHO trusts teenagers?!).

Dairy Queen is definitely one of the worst [especially since they only have one-stall bathrooms - a bad sign for girls, who usually go in herds to la toilette to gossip and such (but then again, who would have anything interesting to gossip about at a Dairy Queen?)]. Last night, the darling staff members at a Dairy Queen in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, dropped half of our order on the floor, laughed a bit, and then all of the employees got to work cleaning up the mess. I salute their hygienic practices, but we were still waiting...and waiting...

HOWEVER. Our order consisted of the one thing which Dairy Queen creates as well as our political system creates sleazebags.

Blizzards.
Heaven in a cup.

HALLELUJAH!

So I could wait, because after one bite of that double-fudge cookie dough Blizzard, I had forgotten the long twenty minutes. I mean, Blizzards just taste so good. There are too many flavors for an indecisive person like me, but any flavor I end up with (usually cookie dough!) makes me happy. The combination of tingling taste buds and a sugar high fills me with goodwill for all mankind. 

Interesting, isn't it, how the virtues of one thing can make up for all the vices of others?