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grievance: pomegranates

Never thought you'd see ire aimed at pomegranates, or any fruit for that matter... I know. And certainly not expressed in writing, but pomegranates are pissing me off in so many different ways.

For starters, I really, really, really, really hate when people pronounce the word "pom-ie-granate." I'm not even sure why because people mispronounce things all over the damned place and it doesn't infuriate me so much. I have an inkling that it's because "pomiegranates" sounds fucking awful and actually makes me feel uncomfortable. It's creepy. Like you're talking to me in "mother-ease" like I'm a baby. "Does my little muffin want a pomiegranate"? Ick, ick, ick. I want to wipe the ick off. And I can't, because of the second reason I want to punch pomegranates in the face...


And not of their own volition. It's not like there was a big pomegranate meeting and they decided to branch out and try new things so to speak. (Although I suppose I can't rule that out... Milk did some pretty serious marketing for itself with the "Got Milk?" Campaigns. I'm still not really clear on that.)

I was fine with POM juice. See, the thing that really pisses me off is that I actually like pomegranates. But do I feel it should be conquering the globe? Certainly not. It's a fruit. And as soon as you slap on the idea of high antioxidants onto something, it's like the elixir of life. Maybe we should stop putting... errr... oxidants... into our bodies. What's wrong with oxidants anyway? It would seem to have oxygen in it... n'est-ce pas? I could be wrong. And I don't care to put in the time researching it.

But what I did put time into "researching" was these wily little fruits themselves. So while I do like the taste of pomegranates, I do not want these things which a Google "shopping" search yielded this ridiculous array of what I will call POMEGRANIA (golf claps: aren't I so clever?):

I do not want... to smell like pomegranates.

I do not want... to read about pomegranates. (Yes. If you'll note, this link is purple, because I actually went there because even my disenchanted-by-pomegranates-ass couldn't believe that there was a novel named "Pomegranate Seeds" so I needed to check it out.)

I do not want... to replenish my lips with the oil of pomegranates. They never seemed like particularly oily fruits to begin with. Is Burt's Bees torturing pomegranates?

I do not want... my apartment to smell like pomegranates. Nor do I need pink candles. Or candles that have no flames.

I do not want... to take PILLS OF POMEGRANATE-NESS. What the fuck?

I do not want... to listen to songs about pomegranates (or their seeds). Again, a purple link because I couldn't believe this. Plus, the cover art is kind of creepy.

I do not want... to eat things which taste like pomegranates but are, in fact, not pomegranates.

I do not want... "pomegranate" to be considered a color.

I do not want... pomegranate-themed/flavored/hued things to exist which I don't even understand. What the fuck is this?

I do not want... to succor a cold with pomegranate-flavoring.

I do not want... I repeat... to smell like fucking pomegranates.

I do not want... to drink pomegranate cocktails.

I do not want... pomegranates anywhere near my wine.

I do not want... even a little bit... to hang pomegranates in a wreath anywhere my eyes will float. And if I did... faux pomegranates?? Really?

I do not want... to eat pomegranates at this point. Their ubiquity has simply inundated me with these asshole fruits everywhere I go and I'm sick and tired of it.

The only plus side to this...? Grapefruits have been neglected so now I can enjoy them.

Pomegranate is the new black. Literally. It's a fucking color. Fucking bullshit, pomegranates.