As an adult you think my ability to eat an ice cream cone with minimal issues or assistance would be eliminated by this point in my life but I have gravely been mistaken. One glorious night, not that long ago, the direct opposite of this scenario is exactly what happened. Here is a little story about how a wonderful idea went to being the worst idea I have ever had in the matter of minutes.
Wednesday morning when it was time to leave my house for work, the vegetable fairy (yes she is real and she leaves all kinds of goodies at my doorstep) left me two flats of tomatoes and jars, as I had requested. So while I was at work I was trying to decide what to do with my wonderful bounty. Would it be stewed tomatoes or salsa was the big debate and if I had to go to the store for any supplies. Needless to say salsa was decided the winner and I had started to mentally prepare myself and my grocery list. Luckily I only needing a few supplies and a bottle of wine so I was home in no time and ready to tackle this task before me. So I cranked up my music (tonight’s choice was music from the era of ’00), popped open my bottle of wine and started chopping the mound of vegetables overtaking my counters. As I was alone in my kitchen, singing, drinking and making numerous batches of salsa, I had the opportunity to think through all the stuff in my mind and just spend some me time. Side note **Anyone that is an only child understands how important it is to be alone, from time to time to recharge the batteries so to speak.** In the midst of all the chaos and my attempt to replicate the smell of Mexican restaurant in my very own apartment I spaced off eating any dinner. Now this is where the beginning of the end starts. So after canning 7 pint and 5 quarts jars, cleaning the kitchen up and emptying a bottle of wine, I started to have some hunger pains. At this moment my best friend had decided to come over to take a sample of what could be the best salsa known to man and also decided to ride along when I told him I wanted to go get some food. After much debate it was determined that all that sounded good was an ice cream cone, 1 vanilla for me and 1 chocolate for him. This seems like a fairly easy requested and since the temp was cool at 9pm the chance of it melting all over the place had been what we thought reduced, but oh boy were we ever wrong!
As we make our way to Dairy Queen with visions of mile high ice cream cones in our heads and a tablespoon of gas in my car, our spirits are through the roof, almost giddy with the soon to be sweet treat. There was even mention of Warren Buffet and understanding his desire to invest in such a great company. Due to inheriting the gene that makes me forgetful, I had totally forgot that they offered dipped cones. If you have never had one or heard of one, its an ice cream cone that is dipped in a tasty candy shell (chocolate, cherry or butterscotch), of your choosing. The moment we were notified that we could get chocolate ice cream dipped in cherry flavor, our minds had officially been blown. So with each of us armed with the ice cream of our liking we made our way back to my apartment. The biggest mistake one could ever make is turning down a handful of napkins that were protruding out the drive-thru window; straight from a sign from the universe. “Ummm yeah, you are going to regret not taking these in about 30 seconds” I could hear the girl silently saying to us as we drove away in oblivion. We are each licking and eating our cones at a very reasonable pace, or so we thought. Once we arrived back to my parking lot, my friend proclaimed “I’m going to need a moment with this cone” and all I could think was “thank God, I’m not the only one currently struggling with this thing”. At this exact moment it was decided that we needed to sit in the car and finish our treats because the idea of making it into the apartment intact was painfully unrealistic. Mind you I also had ice cream running down my arm, dripping on my shirt and at one point a chunk of the chocolate candy shell in my hand. All of this while I am trying to contain the amount of liquid sugary goo that was currently getting EVERYWHERE . As far as the struggle in the passenger seat, it was pretty close to my own. I ever heard “Jesus, I’m not even to the cone part” and this statement caused an involuntary reaction in which I proceeded to spit ice cream out of my mouth and all over his car window, adding to the ant bait. The struggle of this situation was to the point that we were either going to cry or pull off this feat before us in the most glorious fashion known to mankind. Not being able to contain the laughter that had erupted in the car all the while ice cream is continuing to melt all over the interior of my beloved G6 was one of those you would see with two small unattended children on a summer day. Between fits of hysteria it was decided that when I got in my car the following day it would be filled with ants. So if you could imagine two big girls, eating an ice cream cone at a rapid pace while most of it had melted all over themselves and the car, sitting in a apartment parking lot at 9pm on a Wednesday, laughing until their faces were red, is the picture that my neighbor walked out of his apartment to. We finally made our way to the bottom of the cones and tried to regain our dignity the best we could. We then made a very ungraceful exit out of the car, sticking to ever surface possible and attempting to beeline it to my apartment, trying to go unnoticed by the gentleman standing 10 feet in front of us. Of course and all fantasies I had of him and becoming his future wife were shattered at that exact moment we made eye contact, with ice cream dripping from my hair.