Double-dropped Kitchen Floor Ice Cream

I still believe that icecream should be one word. WHY ISN’T IT ONE WORD??? It doesn’t make any sense. Iceberg is one word. So is Iceland. What about iceman? Even iceweasel is one word–though I have no flippin’ idea what it means.

Anyway, I digress!

You guys know I love chocolate.

If I could eat it all day, every day without dying of malnutrition, I’d do so. To hell with being able to fit into a car. Chocolate rules!

So, in an effort to eat food that is as healthy and non-processed as possible (meaning if it contains plastic, shit I cannot pronounce, or metal shavings, I’m trying to shy away from it), I thought that what I’d do is when I’m dying for some chocolate I’d just eat one spoonful of my favorite chocolate iceCREAM (dammit!) on earth: Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk. Just the name of it makes me a bit randy! And it contains ingredients that don’t tongue tie me.

Believe it or not I’m perfectly capable (though it takes ALL my strength) of eating only one bite per day. It sates my chocolate craving and is only about 25 calories for a small bite.

About a week ago I realized that my month-old pint of B&J is down to the last bite. Yes! It lasted a whole month. I am quite proud of myself.

I was so excited about getting that last delicious morsel of orgasmic chocolate heaven into my gaping maw that I attacked the pint with a ferocity typically known only to mother lions protecting their cubs.

Alas, that damn stuff was so frozen that it was not very accepting of my spoon. It bent the damn thing in half. (I know I’m not the only person with like 10 oddly bent spoons in their silverware drawer from where hard iceCREAM bent it and you had to try and mush it back into shape with only moderate success.)

Dang bendy spoons!

Dang bendy spoons!

So, back to the inaccessible B&J: GAME ON BITCH! I was gonna get that chocolate onto my spoon come hell or high water. PMS waits for NO frozen iceCREAM.

Finally, after digging at it and prying it away from the edge of the pint, I get some success. The spoon is in and the iceCREAM is slightly mobile, if not still a wee bit stuck.

With one final YANK I free the chocolate bliss from its wretched home and watch it go sailing through the air to land with an unceremonious splat on my kitchen floor.

Fuck!

Now, I don’t know about you, but my kitchen floor isn’t…well…clean.

As I refuse to clean anything in the kitchen and it all falls to the hubby, I can’t complain if the kitchen floor is gross. If I’m not willing to clean it, I also can’t bitch if it’s not clean.

I look lovingly upon my iceCREAM splat and say, “5 second rule!” I’m eating it and I don’t care.

I pick it up off the floor, analyze the 8 cat hairs and various other ickies now attached to it and decide that it’s worth the risk.

I remove all of the extra floor sprinkles now added to my piece of chocolate heaven and go to put it into my mouth.

Alas, my fingers are warm and with all the picking off of the ickies the iceCREAM has slightly melted and whoops! Through my fingers it falls again onto the floor.

DOUBLE FUCK-A-DOODLE-DO!

But, eh, to hell with it. I cleaned it once, I can clean it again.

Now I’m back to removing cat hair and other Typhoid-carrying elements from my manna from Heaven. Finally, it looks clean enough to eat (well, sorta) and I pop that bite ‘o yumminess into my waiting mouth.

Mmmmmm…chocolate…mmmmmm…in love with Ben & Jerry. Wanna marry them…mmmmm… WHAT THE FUCK? Yep, there was a “what the fuck” moment while luxuriating in the chocolate bliss that is New York Super Fudge Chunk. I guess my iceCREAM picked up a hitchhiking pepper seed that had fallen to the floor a few days ago when the hubby was cooking Thai food.

Not sure how much you know about Thai peppers, but to say they are hot is like saying that Megan Fox or Chris Hemsworth (Thor) are just kinda okay looking–a tremendous understatement.

FIRE dammit! My mouth is on FIRE!

Yes, the iceCREAM did help it a bit as the cold helped numb my poor tongue. But whatever kind of pepper seed attached itself to my hunk ‘o hunk of burning dessert was bound and determined to survive.

My damn mouth burned for over a full day. Son of a bitch! Dumb floor. Dumb extra-frozen iceCREAM. Dumb pepper seed.

What…no “Dumb Jodi” in that list? Yeah, I should have been at the top of it! Single-dropped iceCREAM is bad enough. Double-dropped? I should have taken the second drop as a sign from God to just slowly back away from the chocolate. But since I don’t listen to anyone, including my own common sense, I had burny-tongue as my lesson of the day.

Well, actually, I didn’t learn any lesson. I’d still eat double-dropped iceCREAM if it was the last bite in the pint. I’m horrifyingly gross and I’m okay with it! 🙂

XOXOXO

16 comments on “Double-dropped Kitchen Floor Ice Cream

  1. I actually bit into the web part of my hand as I read that and winced “oh shit!” That icecream just about saved your mouth. However, not eating it would have saved it even more 😛

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    • You are always so sweet! I’d love for you to record it. It’s such an honor each time you do that. Send me the link after you have posted it and I will update my posting to direct people to it. Thank you so much! 🙂 ♡♡♡

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  2. Wow, you should have just stuck your tongue in the ice scream for the rest of the evening! My son had a similar pepper experience and put on quit the dramatic show…my husband of course brought him back into realty with his comment of “you have no idea about burning sensation until you feel a knife in your back.” Okay, yes that would be a bit more uncomfortable than the fire in your month. It’s quite a story though Jodi…enjoy your icescream without the fire.

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