Let Them Eat [ice cream] Cake (#8 in the countdown)

The count down of the final blog entries continues. I've chosen to feature 16 blogs, representing 16 years of blogging. As posts have NOT aged well, I'm re-working these final posts as to improve the story while preserving the madness.

This entry is about my favorite substance on the planet: Ice cream. Let it be known that I eat ice cream at least 340 days a year. It's only fitting that the topic of ice cream be included in the top 10 blogs. Here's #8 in the countdown: Let Them Eat [ice cream] Cake.

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Let's set the stage, shan't we? I avoid gluten like the plague. I include things like quinoa and flaxseed in my food regiment. I am meat-free. I don't drink pop. I don't drink alcohol. I don't drink real milk. I eat chocolate with the highest percentage possible. I don't smoke. I wear my seat belt. I pay my bills on time. I take my shoes off when I come in the house. I don't use glitter on the premises. I embrace my sugar addiction. And, yes....

I eat ice cream like it's going out of style. C'mon. A person has to eat ice cream to live. I've made many conscious decisions about health. My health is dependent on ice cream. I have made a conscious decision to ice cream every day of my life.

I once had a health professional suggest I give up dairy. Mainly related to my throat-clearing problem, but also as related to my overall health. (She didn't even try to talk about me giving up sugar. She's not stupid.)

My response to that health professional was less than enthusiastic. It was more like, "Ummm, did you say something? I must've heard you wrong. I know I heard your wrong. You know ice cream is a dairy product, right?"

She *might* have suggested I try other frozen, non-dairy treats. Might have. I'm not sure as I was fading from consciousness. Has she ever eaten a non-dairy frozen treat? The texture is wrong. The taste is wrong. The enjoyment factor is wrong. The whole thing is wrong.

After regaining consciousness, my reaction? "Thanks. I'll think about it."

To myself: "You can kiss my cheesy-wibblet-butt cheeks if you think I'm gonna give up ice cream. Listen, asswipe--without ice cream, there is darkness and chaos."

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 One of my "work children" scored a new job in the suburbs. For that, I am very proud. It's like watching a baby bird fly the coop.

 

What, don't you have work children? If people can have a "work wife," I can have work children.

 

A going away party was scheduled for my soon-to-exit work daughter, with a taco bar planned for all to enjoy. After all, who doesn't love a good Mexican buffet? Guacamole--yes, please! Both clients and staff seemed quite smitten with the taco bar idea.

 

While setting up the taco bar, I noticed there was an ice cream cake in the garbage. I was standing at the counter, slicing olives for the taco bar when I looked down and...there it was. 

I took a closer look.

 

Yup, that's half a DQ Ice Cream cake in the garbage.

In. The. Garbage!!!

 

I yelled out to my work daughter, "HEY! IS THAT A DQ CAKE IN THE GARBAGE?"

 

From her office down the hall, I hear my work daughter yell, "What? Hang on."

 

Me: [audible gasp]. I look down at the garbage can. I felt a bit woozy.  

Me: [Quite indignant] "What the hell is half a DQ Ice cream cake doing in the garbage? 

Work daughter: [enters kitchen, stares at me, looks down at the garbage and then looks at me again]

Me: "Is that an ice cream cake in the garbage?"

Work daughter: [stares at me, definitely confused] "Yes?"

Me: That's sacrilegious!" 

 

It still looked pretty frozen, so I knew it hadn't been there very long.

Me: "Why is there a DQ cake in the garbage?" 

Work daughter: "I cleaned out the office freezer before leaving today." [shrugs shoulders]

Me: [looking at other food products in the garbage, only to be drawn back to the ice cream cake. I am not amused. This is just plain wrong. WRONG!]

 

Me:  "How old is this ice cream cake?"

 

Work daughter: "Um, I dunno. A month?"

 

Me: [that's not very old] "But, why is there a half-eaten ice cream cake in the garbage? I don't understand. Why is it in the garbage?"

 

Work daughter: "Seriously. I'm cleaning the office before I leave tonight. I emptied the freezer and frig. I live too far away to take it home."

 

Me:  [I have failed my work children. Why would they throw away part of a DQ cake?]

 

Me: "Is there anything wrong with it?"

 

Work daughter: [tentative] "Ummmm.. I don't think so. Maybe a bit freezer-burned."

 

Me:  [waiting, tapping foot]

 

Work daughter:"Nothing's wrong with it…. Well, besides being old and freezer burned and in the garbage, if that's what you're asking."

 

Work daughter: [eyes widen]

 

Me: [Speechless. This is wrong, unjustified, shameful! I need to put her up for adoption. She has done the unthinkable.]

 

Work daughter: [looks at the ground, appropriately chastised]

 

I took a really close look. Hmmm.

Just a little freezer burn.

Nope, not too melted.

Yes, looks perfectly good.

Has some plastic covering on it…

Hmmmm….

 

You know what I did. 

 

You have no question about what I did.

 

I took that ice cream cake out of the garbage...

put it on the counter...

knocked the garbage sticking to the plastic cover off the cover...

removed the plastic cover and…

 

...I ate it.

 

OF COURSE I DID! 

 

Why on earth would someone throw out such a wonderful, delicious, perfectly-fine ice cream cake? That is incredibly wrong, wrong, wrong. No one should EVER throw out an ice cream cake unless it is freezer-burned beyond recognition or is tainted with bodily fluid.

 

My work daughter was mortified but not surprised.

 

In walks a co-worker....

 

Co-worker: "Hey! Is that a DQ ice cream cake?"

 

Me: "Yeah, I dug it out of the garbage and now I'm eating it."

 

Co-worker: "Is there anything wrong with it?"

 

Me: "Not that I can tell. It tastes great, it's still kinda frozen and I didn't see any garbage on it."

 

Co-worker: "It was in the garbage?" She looked a bit surprised.

 

Me: "Yeah, but I dug it out and it's great! God, I love DQ ice cream cakes!"

 

I know she is wrestling with her brain, as she love ice cream almost as much as I do.

 

Co-worker: "Can I have some?"

 

I can't tell you how pleased I was to hear this question. I now hold this person in higher esteem.

 

Me: "Of course!" Seeing as her hands were full (she was carrying things in preparation for the party), she asked me to shove a spoonful into her mouth.

 

I looked around for another spoon but she indicated I should just use the friggin' spoon in my hand.

 

I suppose when one is eating an ice cream cake out of the garbage, a used spoon is the least of your concerns. So, I shoveled a big blob of that cake into her mouth. I daresay she enjoyed that cake as much as I did.

 

A few minutes later, a client walked by the now-melting, half-eaten garbage-found ice cream cake. He was holding a plateful of tacos, walking away from the taco bar. He looked at the cake, looked at me, looked at it.

 

He asked, "Is that a DQ Ice cream cake?"

 

I nodded in a most affirmative manner, adding how I had dug it out of the garbage.

 

He didn't seem one bit concerned. "Can I have a piece?"

 

I knew I liked him.

 

The guy put his taco-laden plate onto the counter, used a spoon to hack off a large piece of the quickly-disappearing cake and plopped it right on top of his Mexican fiesta. When asked about it being in the garbage, he said, "I've had more than one dumpster-dive-dinner along the way. This is nothing."

 

See? There are still good people in the world. 

He helped me finish off the cake without question. Other clients and staff looked a bit green in the gills, watching us eat that garbage-blessed dessert, but it didn't slow us down one bit.

 

As you can imagine, the wife was mortified by everything related to this event. She was disgusted that I would take something out of the garbage and eat it. She was also taken aback that anyone else would join me in such nonsense.

 

She OBVIOUSLY doesn't love DQ ice cream cakes like we do. She doesn't recognize the pure joy, bliss, heaven such a creation can bring. Sad. So sad. The wife might learn a thing or two by my behavior. Personally, I hope she learns:

 

Life is short. Eat the cake.

...Even if you have to dig it out of the garbage.