Ranch dressing is the creamy child of a train run on a leprous cripple. Am I the only person in the world who hates ranch dressing? I don’t know if this is an interstate trend or not, but around where I live, people put ranch dressing on EVERYTHING.
Literally, everything. Pizzas, waffles, sandwiches, pasta, salad, chips, french fries, lollipops, hot dogs, burritos, etc. If Reece’s made a ranch dressing cup, people in Arizona would pay money for it and eat it. I don’t get it.
Ranch dressing is disgusting, it’s a malapropism for pants messing, which, coincidentally, is what it looks like. People voluntarily cover their food in something that looks like peppered semen and tastes like jellied shame. Ranch dressing tastes like horseradish smells. According to the findings of a study that doesn’t exist, the average American will consume 4.6 gallons of the white unspeakable a year, while the accepted average amount for consumption by straight people 0.8 gallons a year, which means that everyone who likes ranch dressing should die of AIDS.
Ranch dressing is a bastard chimera of mayonnaise, which is already gross enough. I think whoever invented ranch was trying to fuck with someone. I bet they put every nasty piece of goopy garbage they could get their hands on into a jar and mixed it all together. The guy being pranked most likely had autism, because autistic kids are the only ones in school that get picked on. His brain was too screwed up to realize that what he was eating tasted like a sweaty foot dipped in vinegar, and his performance was so convincing that everyone around him decided to start eating it too, even the prankster, if only out of spite. Either that or this is what seal lions bleed when they’ve been infested with MRSA-carrying termites. Wars have been fought over lesser atrocities than this. Offering someone ranch dressing for their food is the social equivalent of bricking in their mouth while they sleep. Taking this into consideration, it’s no coincidence that the first ranch dressing brought to the market was made by Clorox, whose signature product can kill anything. Clorox bleach can even fucking kill color!
I tried ranch dressing once, and it left a worse taste in my mouth than Stride Shift. I thought that if I gargled diesel fuel it would get the taste out of my mouth, but all that did was give me cavities. The local priest told me that I had to say eight Hail Marys and flog myself to atone for eating it. Later that night, I took a shit so bad it woke up my roommate. My ex girlfriend loved ranch, and that’s why she’s my ex. Not liking ranch dressing is almost as important in a woman as infertility, because the only thing worse than eating that runny bullshit is raising children.
If someone ate this horrific concoction in the 1800s they’d be burned at the stake for witchcraft and treason. Not even North Koreans would eat this shit, and North Koreans put sawdust in their bread dough to make it last longer and are led by a guy that looks like Psy after a stroke. I was watching Man VS Food once, and when the waiter offered Adam ranch dressing on the side for his 20 hamburger challenge, he responded by impregnating the restaurant owner’s daughter with his vomit, because real men don’t take any shit like that. It was the best episode of any food show I’ve ever seen, unless you count the shake weight episode of South Park. My sister’s boyfriend came over for dinner once a bunch of years ago when I was a child, and when he asked for ranch dressing to put on his corn on the cob, my dad broke a chair over his neck and sold my sister’s car. He told me that if I ever ate ranch dressing in front of him that he would smack me so hard my nose would melt. I could tell he was dead serious because he had an enormous hard on. Violence gives real men wood, and real men are always serious about being violent. My father was a great man; he once took a shit that was 100% chest hair. He was such a man that my mother divorced him just so she could marry him twice, which pleased him so much he used her loins to conceive me. One Father’s Day, when I was 11, I bought him a Hallmark card, and he taped it to my back and set it on fire. I never made that mistake again. This year I think I will buy him something manly, like a wrecking ball.
Trying to make something taste better by putting ranch on it is like trying to kill a person with a gun that fires bullets made of nothing. Also, the gun’s trigger doesn’t exist. Even bad pizza is reasonably mediocre by most people’s standards, making it soggy with this liquid lard arguably makes it worse. It’s like someone sits down with their second-rate textured vegetable protein “beef” patties and says “I wish there was a product that would make my McRib taste even worse.” And why is it called ranch dressing in the first place? If a rancher caught you irrigating his pork chops with this shit he’d tar and feather you. Ranchers are tough, cowboys without the homosexuality, they wear the skin of the animals they milk and eat, have impressive womb broom mustaches, and get into fistfights with bands of roving Comanches for looking at his chickens funny. A real rancher would have nothing to do with this bullshit condiment. A real rancher would find its proliferation just God damn ranch depressing.