Sunday, September 30, 2012

Mr. Tastee's Awesometastic Ice Cream Club

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario: it's the middle of July, and the temperatures have been over one hundred degrees for the last week or so. You have spent every afternoon out in this heat, with little relief from the elements. Within your neighborhood, you hear a rumor that the ice cream man will come down your street next week. After so long in the heat, ice cream is the very thing you need. The buzz grows and grows, and talk spreads like wildfire.
"But he never comes 'round here. Are you sure?"
"Positive. I'd bet good money on it."
"Save that money for the best ice cream you can get! With as infrequently as he's in these here parts, that treat will have to last you a while."

The gossip flies all through the weekend that he'll be here next Friday. Anticipation grows as you and your neighbors talk about strategies for hailing the truck, what to order, how to order, back-up orders, and the possibility that Mr. Tastee will run out of ice cream before you get to the head of the line. As chatter continues to float in the air, your neighbors talk about how fortunate they are to be members of Mr. Tastee's Awesometastic Ice Cream Club; as a member of this elite institution, you are entitled to ice cream from the Sub-Zero Super-Dee-Duper Freezer at the back of the truck. These treats are made from the finest ingredients Mr. Tastee can offer, using the best recipes Mr. Tastee can create. Since you are also a member, you look forward to your Friday treat with relish, trudging through Monday and Tuesday, feeling like Friday might never come. And then, as Wednesday morning dawns hot and sticky, you hear the ice cream truck nearby. You rush to your front door, look out, and see the truck drive right past your house as he heads toward the far end of the street. As fast as your legs can carry you, you're running behind the truck, waving your membership card in the air, shouting bloody murder in the hopes that Mr. Tastee will notice one of his loyal followers. Just when you think all hope is lost, Mr. Tastee stops the truck, comes over to the order window, and asks you what flavor you want from the special freezer.
"You mean, I can choose what flavor I get?"
"Why, of course you do, Loyal Follower," Mr. Tastee tells you, gently.
"Wow! I've never been able to do that before!"
He laughs kindly as he tells you what delectable goodies are left in his special freezer, and you pick the absolute tastiest of them all. You feel like you could just wrap your arms around the sweet little bugger as you thank him for his wonderfulness. And, as Mr. Tastee pulls away from your street, you stand in the middle of the road in utter disbelief, unwrapping the rare delicacy. When the reality of the situation settles in, since everything had happened so suddenly, you begin the ritual of Mr. Tastee Ice Cream excitement, breaking down right there in the middle of the road. After a few minutes of uncontrollable emotion, you gather yourself up just long enough to carry yourself back to your house, collapse on the sofa, and enjoy your treasure.
End scene.

So, you have this picture in your mind, right?
Now, let me tweak the scenario into something a little more believable:


We're goin' to Houston, baby!


The reason I wrote out the Mr. Tastee story is because that's exactly what happened, except with tickets instead of ice cream. It's been two weeks since we bought the tickets, and I still can't believe it. Oh, my precious Paulie-pants, if only you knew the lengths to which we extend ourselves just to spend three hours in your presence. I'm sure he has no idea what strings have to be pulled in order to show up in the same place he's at. It really doesn't matter, because it's always ten thousand percent worth it. I mean, just look at that face. How can you not want to see this?
Photobucket

Also, I'm hoping we get to see the Olympic bass.
Photobucket

And, if any of you are wondering, I got the Mr. Tastee name from a character on The Adventures of Pete and Pete...

Is It A Subscription Box, Or Something More Sinister? (It's A Subscription Box. Maybe.)