Picture this: it’s a nice summer’s day; you’re at the beach
with your girl, you think its perfect
weather for an ice cream and that it will be cute if you buy one for you and
your girl to share. Oh contraire! Its 100 degrees out. You have two options;
eat fast and get brain freeze and look like a pig, or eat at a regular pace and
let sugary ice cream syrup slide down your fingers. In addition, the genius
that served you this colossal ice cream gave you one miniature napkin. One. And
it is so thin that when you try to clean the sticky ice cream remains of your
finger with it, the napkin shreds as if Wolverine was cleaning his blades with
it.
What is
the deal with the enormous mess a simple ice cream cone can make? I don’t want
sticky fingers at the beach. I hate sand at the best of times, so why would I
want it stuck to my fingers? The romance of the day is ruined now that I can’t
hold my girls hand since I am at risk of sanding it down to the bone with my abrasive
fingers. The beach is the least fun place to have sticky fingers. Unless you’re
playing beach football, because you will be able to catch passes like Jerry
Rice.
It is
just an ice cream cone. Do we really want that much value for our buck that we
expect the tip of the ice cream to touch over passing aircraft? Drips are inevitable
with these gigantic servings, and I haven’t even touched on obesity yet. The
greediness and inexplicable overeating in our society might just be the cause
of this pet peeve of mine. The ice cream specialist serving my ice cream thinks
I expect these incomprehensible serving sizes. Sometimes I am unsure how many
scoops I am allowed in my ice cream. I’ll be like, “Chocolate thanks.” And they
will put in one scoop and look at me like, “What else, idiot?” So I’ll be like,
“Oh, and cookies and cream.” Again this seemingly generous cone artist will
look at me and this little routine will continue until he can’t reach the top
of my ice cream anymore and I have to beg him not to bring out the stepladder.
When
the drips start I see people think they are beating the system by licking them
up quickly. Quite the contrary. Every time you lick the cone you soften it a
little (quite the opposite of the logic we might be used to). Eventually the
cup part of the cone will be so soft it will collapse and you will lose your
top scoop of ice cream like a situation straight out of a predictable children’s
sitcom.
Speaking of children, why do these senseless
maniacs insist on biting the bottom of the cone? Runny ice cream will fly out
of the like diarrhea. And I promise they will not learn their lesson the first
time they make this wearisome blunder.
I only
have one solution to this ridiculous dilemma. Smaller servings or eat out of a
bowl. Why do we persist to try and stuff as much ice cream in a cone as extra-terrestrially
possible? Let’s use a little self control people.
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