Thinking of hitting JJ’s tonight? Bwog’s Head Beverage Inspector Bijan Samareh warns you of the social dangers of late-night smoothie-savoring.

JJ’s Place has its merits.

WARNING: your smoothie dates at JJ's will not be this romantic.

First and foremost, it’s the only campus dining location where you can witness the Dionysian abandon of that vegan on your floor who only eats hummus and celery and air drunkenly scarf down a double cheeseburger. And there’s something to be said for a venue in which it’s appropriate to pass out into a plate of curly fries around 1 am, amidst sweat, screaming, and barbeque sauce.

We only wish that this Korova Milk Bar of Columbia Dining would do something about their smoothies. Granted, they’re delicious. But one wonders whether each of the blended drinks has to sound like it’s named after a gaudy perfume scent and/or Rocket Power episode.

Any Columbian who can order “The Velvet” without making it sound like something that takes place in the champagne room of a strip club deserves a medal—as does he who can fight the urge to add “dude” and a fistbump to the end of his request for a “Tropical Crush”.

This is only made worse by the fact that the names continually change. If you ask for that yellow thing that everyone is drinking, The JJ’s people will admonish you and assert that it’s a “Spring Break.” Come back a few days later and ask for a “Spring Break,” and be prepared to be met with blank stare and a head tilt.

And taking a date to JJ’s is out of the question. You suavely swipe them in and take their order, expecting to continue home-free to a private booth where you can casually drop equal parts Plato quotes and Arrested Development allusions. But there’s no getting around it—the smoothie line. Nervously, you might try to veil your “I’ll have a Pink Nana” with a cough or sneeze, but the damage is done. Your Pink Nana speaks louder than the blender itself.

It’s time for a grassroots campaign—for a JJ Smoothie Revolution. We shouldn’t rest until every single menu item sounds like something Don Draper would order. (Yeah, we’re looking at you, “The Zing.”) We’d even settle for Core-themed names.

After all, who wouldn’t want to drink “The Ichor of the Gods?”

Candlelit juice diet via Wikimedia Commons