Tuesday, September 02, 2008

When Ice Cream Sandwiches Go Bad

It's Bert's fault. He may disagree, but he should know better. Our search for new cabinet knobs and drawer pulls and hinges took us to Dunn Lumber. After some hemming and hawing and arriving at the decision that what we have will serve for the moment, I passed the ICE CREAM cooler on the way to the nice cashier. Because of my current obsession with ice cream sandwiches, I threw myself against the glass a few times trying to get to them, before I figured out that the door slid open. I removed a holy ice cream sandwich, enquired of Bert if he desired anything. When he did not, I took my merchandise to the aforementioned cashier, traded money (or plastic) for them and we returned to the car.

This is when the trouble began. As all good Americans know, ice cream bars are to be wrapped in wax paper. Little if any adhesive is necessary and it is very simple to access this little piece of frozen nirvana. Somehow, this manufacturer figured out a way to screw this up. However, I thought nothing of it as it was wrapped in Mylar. You know, the stuff that tears when you give it a sharp look?

But no. I managed to tear a very small corner from the package, then with much effort pry open the entire top. This is where my progress all but ceased. As I prattled away at Bert, I was tearing away at the Mylar with my teeth to no avail. Meanwhile, the ice cream sandwich was not only smushing (a technical term) but melting a bit. I also had no place to put the small bits of Mylar, as I had put the small purchases in my purse rather than request a bag. Stupid tree hugging dirt worshipper.

At this point, we pulled up to a red light and Bert glanced at me. I had chocolate many places a woman of my age, education and professional stature probably shouldn't have. Not to mention tiny bits of Mylar stuck to my person. My to my amazement and chagrine, Bert had NO FRIGGIN' POCKET KNIFE. WHAT THE HELL KIND OF FIELD BIOLOGIST HAS NO FREAKIN' POCKET KNIFE????

So, I do the only thing an addict can do at this point. Wait the 4 minutes until we arrive at my home and take a pair of scissors to the aforementioned devil Mylar?? Silly reader who obviously knows me not. I attempt to open the other end of the Mylar assuming that the first end is merely an anomaly. Dumb move. Not only am I unable to make further progress, I am now stuck with an ice cream sandwich open at both ends.

I decide my only choice is to squeeze the ice cream sandwich from its wrapping. It does not go well. And when it does? It goes out the other end just as well. So, I'm squeezing and eating from both ends. A neat trick. I'm talking with my mouth full of cold ice cream. I suspect at this point Bert was trying desperately not to pee himself he was laughing so hard. I finished pretty much the same time we pulled up to the house. Mike was sanding the kitchen cabinets and was unimpressed by both my tale and the amount of chocolate on my person.

This was an ice cream sandwich gone very bad.

1 comment:

Philip H. said...

The kind of biologist that flies on airplanes has no friggin pocket knife. And I don't blame myself, nor do I blame Debi. I blame John, mostly because he wasn't there to offer pithy comments and witty rejoinders. Alternately, I blame the Rat. Either way, I didn't have a pocket knife.