You don't even know. I don't like ice cream, and the rare times I indulge, I save myself for the premium stuff.
Earlier tonight, in the balmy 24º and with no coat, I found myself walking into a Baskin Robbins to appease Debe, who becomes dangerous when she doesn't get her way, true story. The objective was completely lost on me, and I found myself distracted by the charming waffle bowls, encrusted with millions of sprinkles, the stuff of my organic childhood dreams. Soon I was touching the bowls on display, and decided I would in fact need to eat out of one.
How could you not?
I asked the staff person, who may have been 15 with as many facial piercings, if they had the sprinkle cups in stock.
"Yeah, these are what we have." O.o
Um. "You mean these, up here? Where people can touch them?"
"Wull um, I mean, I have never seen anyone touch them."
"I just touched all of them. I thought they were for display."
"Oh," she said, "well could you not? People eat those."
"No, you need to throw these away see?"
"Oh. Right. Did you know what you wanted?"
Yeah hand sanitizer, all the Hepatitis vaccines, a shower, and to blog this.
"I'd like one of the clowns in the super thick case please."
"I could get you a cone from the bottom that hasn't been touched."
You mean these beauts?
The clown won by a mile. But I just bit the icing scallops off and threw it away.
31 flavours, 31 touchy-feely unnoticed gropers, 31 strains of germs.