We're adults. When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?
-Meredith Grey
Yup. We're grown-ups. I know this because today I took my car in to get an emission inspection and then wrote a check to the county commissioner to renew the tag on my car. (Special thanks to the state of Georgia for requiring all car tags to be renewed on your birthday. What a great birthday gift!) All the while thinking, this is such a grown-up thing to do. It is solely my responsibility to do this. If I don't do it, I will get a ticket. College is not grown-up. In college, my dad would have taken care of that for me.
Don't get me wrong. There are some awesome things about being an adult. Most of them, really. As a kid, I never would have been able to eat half a pint of Ben & Jerry's in the middle of the afternoon, straight out of the carton. I couldn't stay out as late as I wanted or drink tequila or watch any movie I wanted to. And of course there's the sex. We can't forget about that.
But before we get caught up in our Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, orgasmic reverie, a letter arrives in the mail from the county tax commissioner demanding a check so that you can drive to work legally. Or your car insurance. Or the student loans. (And to prove that I have been a grown-up for awhile now, I have officially paid off the entirety of my student loans. All of it! Am officially debt-free. Go ahead. Congratulate me.) And all the decisions that have to be made. Where to live? What to do with your life? It's all so very difficult. And stressful. Very stressful. But that's why we have ice cream. And the sex.
In a pickle, we ask ourselves, what would Bridget Jones Do? Then we do the opposite.
Showing posts with label ice cream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ice cream. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Joy of Pistachio Ice Cream
For years, I didn't understand the point of "pistachio ice cream." It never really did anything for me. I mean, why have pistachio ice cream when chocolate is available?
Then last weekend, with the Dark Horse, I discovered what I had been missing. Turns out, really good pistachio ice cream can in fact be really good. Turns out that there is a difference between store brand pistachio ice cream and Haagen Daas pistachio ice cream.
I couldn't quite finish my ice cream, but I tried to buy the Dark Horse some ice cream for himself. He stopped me and told me I couldn't buy him any until I had finished all of mine. I was pretty stunned. I've never in my life met a man who insisted a girl finish her ice cream before he had any. Is this a new breed? Or have I stumbled onto one in a million? And does this put pressure on me to finish my ice cream?
Then last weekend, with the Dark Horse, I discovered what I had been missing. Turns out, really good pistachio ice cream can in fact be really good. Turns out that there is a difference between store brand pistachio ice cream and Haagen Daas pistachio ice cream.
I couldn't quite finish my ice cream, but I tried to buy the Dark Horse some ice cream for himself. He stopped me and told me I couldn't buy him any until I had finished all of mine. I was pretty stunned. I've never in my life met a man who insisted a girl finish her ice cream before he had any. Is this a new breed? Or have I stumbled onto one in a million? And does this put pressure on me to finish my ice cream?
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