The cold reality of dairy (as narrated by the occasionally lactose intolerant)

"Chrissy, you're still so young! You should be trying DIFFERENT flavors of ice cream! You should be experimenting! You should be open-minded! The world is your oyster!", said Joel, an astoundingly cool and with-it kind of hombre, to Angie's xenophobic younger sister who refused to eat any ice cream that she hadn't pre-approved. (I don't actually know if he said the part about the oyster, since I wasn't actually present, but it would have been perfect if he had, for reasons not entirely unrelated to her loathing for the lesbian couple down the block.)

Since then, we have not let him forget it. He blushes in his awkward Joel kind of way, whines that he wishes he hadn't said that, but it's become an indispensible Joel-ism whether he likes it or not.

When I was at Krissy's tonight, out of some tangent of conversation that I don't really remember, we wondered aloud what flavors of ice cream we would be. (Incidentally, Joel refers to anyone he considers a hottie with a certain flavor that I won't disclose.) "We should call him and ask!", I suggested naively.

So we did call him. Somehow it was me that ended up doing it, on Angie's phone. I was first confused by the new cell phone (as cell phones are hardly my area of expertise.) Then I assumed the male voice at the other end of the line was his dad, and I waited for him to go get Joel. During which time I inevitably got distracted, this time by my reflection, because there is hardly a motherfucking surface in Krissy's house that doesn't have a mirror. ("Sophie!" you groan to yourself, smacking your forehead.) After some yelling, confusion, and impatience on his part, I asked him. "I'll need some time to think this over." he said.

"Fine" I said. "Call us back when you've figured it out."

And what was the verdict, ladies and gentlemen?




Coffee-flavored imitation Haagen-Dasz.



So basically, I'm a pretentious, hipper-than-thou asshole, that really can't compare to the thick, sexy, no-bullshit real thing. I guess I could have told you that. All this diagnosis tells me is that I really am as obnoxious as I feared. Maybe I'll be upgraded when I'm no longer in high school, or no longer obnoxious. And I can tell you for damn sure which one will happen first.