I love milkshakes. Love them. I love spoon shakes and straw shakes. I love hand-scooped ice cream milkshakes and fast food milkshakes from a mix. I love huckleberry Shoop shakes and homemade peanut-butter-and-chocolate blender shakes. I love the freezing stainless-steel “extra” cup from a diner and the “pipe” that comes with a Carl’s Jr. Cap’n Crunch shake. I even love blend-it-yourself shakes from the gas station. I LOVE milkshakes.
(Coincidentally, Wikipedia says that the term ‘milkshake’ first referred to “an alcoholic whiskey drink that has been described as a ‘sturdy, healthful eggnog type of drink, with eggs, whiskey, etc., served as a tonic as well as a treat.’” If I were a drinking man, I’d probably like that kind of milkshake too.)