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Monday, June 01, 2009

I is for Ice Cream

The average American eats 23 quarts of ice cream a year.


I love ice cream. I would steal for ice cream. I would tell a lie for ice cream. I would commit mortal sin for ice cream. I’d even vote Republican if it meant free ice cream (luckily it doesn’t).

I’d even give up my right kidney, left lung, and both testicles for an unlimited lifetime supply of free ice cream.

Vanilla.
Chocolate.
Pistachio Nut.
Peanut Butter Swirl.
Strawberry.
Rocky Road.
Praline Pecan.

I love ice cream in a cup or in a cone or in a huge bowl with chocolate sauce and whipped cream or deep fried.

When I was in the first grade we had a Thanksgiving pageant with skits and songs about Pilgrims and Indians. It was so politically incorrect with its Pilgrim vs. Indian false truths, but that’s what they taught in suburbia, on the very land that was stolen from the Native Americans.

As part of the pageant 12 first graders stood on the edge of the stage proudly holding large letters that spelled T-H-A-N-K-S-G-I-V-I-N-G and recited what each letter meant. I was the second letter “I”.

So picture this: Me in my Sears husky boy pants with white shirt and tie reciting in my squeaky little boy voice what “I” meant to me...

I is for Ice Cream
It’s cold but it’s fine
I’ll have some plum cake
with mine!


Aah memories.

Screw the plum cake, just give me the ice cream.

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