Ah, fruitcake. The world’s most unwanted Christmas gift, even worse than the Chia Pet, but a close runner up to the Salad Shooter.
Anyway, back to the “F” word. Fruitcake. What do I do with it? Maybe I could try the disposal option on my Christmas card. It shows an ice fisherman, but instead a dropping his line down the hole in the ice, he’s dropping fruitcakes. The whole town is lined up, waiting their turn to offload.
And I guess I could always re-gif it—by the way, that term that was invented for the sole purpose of making fruitcakes disappear. Have you heard the theory that there has only been one fruitcake in all of history and it just continues to be re-gifted? It’s true; it was baked in 1620.
Another good way to dispose of fruitcakes is by entering the Manitou Springs, Colorado annual Fruitcake Toss, where loaves of the lowly dessert are catapulted into oblivion. It’s like cow tossing, but without the protesters. The record is 1,420 feet, set by some engineers from Boeing who devised a compressed-air fruitcake canon.
Yet, you know what’s really weird? Some people actually like fruitcake. To some perverse palettes it just wouldn’t be the holidays without a slice of a dense, sticky doorstop. Rose from Golden Girls, the nice, air-headed Swede from Minnesota, said, “Like we say in St. Olaf—Christmas without fruitcake is like St. Sigmund’s Day without the headless boy.” And that’s saying something.
But, I have a confession. My own husband is an avowed fruitcake lover, though in my defense, he did not disclose this before our marriage. If I’d known, it would have been a deal breaker. His on-line profile said that he liked long romantic walks to the fridge, but omitted the part about stopping for a piece of fruitcake. I think its grounds for an annulment.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I like cake—real cake—light and moist with gobs of cream cheese frosting. But cake is to fruitcake what a candle in the window is to a house fire. I especially like cupcakes, which, face it, are just muffins that believe in miracles. It’s been said, “You can’t be sad when you’re holding a cupcake.” Did you hear that you Jolly Old Man? If you want me to be happy, I have two words for you—Suzie’s Bakery.
So, if Santa gives you a fruitcake, you must have been a very bad girl, and Santa hates you. Either that or he saw your Instagram pictures and for Christmas he’s getting you some clothes.
Oh, and a fruitcake.