Change of Plans

The following was written by David Nunez as part of the first-ever Austin Blogger blogswap project. :)

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I want to tell you about ice cream.

I realize it's been a while, but sometimes -life- takes precedent. I promise to do better as I free up some time.

So about the ice cream.

I was -going- to write my personal manifesto (because, you know, every girl needs a manifesto. And, of course, what good is a manifesto unless people hear it). However, -right- as I was pressing the button to submit my entry, the server blew up and retched out these little black puffs of smoke.

And then, as I was pondering whether I should learn Electrical Engineering to fix the stir-fried CPU, my phone rang. I jumped -with- a start (did I just say "...with a start?" Who talks like that?) and yelped. (Yes, I know "yelping" is also passe')

In response to my Tourrette's-like outburst, my kittens turned into these little buzzsaws and flurried their way across the room into the safety of their wollen, kitten pockets I found at this -bizarre- Kats-R-Us place when I was working as a Hippopotumus wrangler in Belgium. (I'd like to go back one of these days and do more work with the baby hippos. It's life affirming to see them hatch out of their purple eggs and scurry into the sea. Or maybe I could learn to be an ice sculptor. I'm not too old to live out a girlhood fantasy, am I?)

Anyway, I was hoping the phone call was Claudia. She always has the right advice and always seems to be available -for- my gripe-a-thons.

Instead I was welcomed with a mixed blessing. It was David, the quiet, slightly creepy, self-effacing guy I met at the Journalers Happy Hour and the blogger meetup.

He was asking me all these questions about whether or not he should get his eyebrows pierced. Naturally, I told him to do whatever he wanted, but if it were ME... well, you know. It started to dawn on me that this was awfully weird for a stranger to be asking me to decide for him about piercings. I started to plan my escape as Hux sauntered back over and spun around into his you-scratch-my-belly-now pose to show his support.

And then the conversation took a decidedly important and energizing turn.

I would be a happy girl indeed if I could snap my fingers and take care of all the world's problems. I'll do the next best thing: take care of the most important problems, one at a time. David invited me to a rally this afternoon to ban mellorine.

I was -so- glad to finally find someone who dispises Mellorine as I do.

Mellorine. Hate. Hate. Hate.

Because, really. Do we need that -stuff- swirled into our ice cream? "I'll take chocolate syrup, walnuts, and a THICK, CRUSTY INFUSION of mellorine, please."

Did you know that people that eat more than one gallon of mellorine-laden ice cream per day have a 3% higher chance of having heart disease?

David asked for me to pull together some troops for the demonstration. I called CY, JI, FA, WX, UY, HV, EU, LBs, XX, DV, 4H, and ?#, but unfortunately they all seemed to suddenly remember other plans. No matter.

At first it was just me and David on the Congress bridge singing our "Mellorine is not the way" ditties we made up on the spot.

And then this truck full of cool, hippie looking people pulled up with signs. At first we were all excited about this unexpected cavalry, but then one of them shouted, "Do you have any idea what's happening on the other side of the world? You need to get your priorities straight! People are dying!"

As if people aren't dying from ice cream delivered mellorine overdose, for Pete's sake! I've come to expect that sort of behavior from people that don't understand.

It's ok. That's why I'm here; it's my job to spread the word and fight the good fight.

I suppose there are actually some people that can be perfectly satisfied eating their "ice cream" with all that mellorine dripping on their chins. I'm hoping the Ice Cream Corporations will stop their charade and own up to their responsibility. I'm hoping really hard.

Ahem. Bluebell. You know... bah...

And so forth.