We all scream for ice cream...

I can't seem to give up on the ice cream front. I'm waging a war with my body to accept that delicious treat that I crave beyond all others. Here's what I've tried to eat and ultimately failed to feel good after doing so:

Black and white milkshake from the Westway Dine
Chocolate cone from a Mr. Softy's truck
Neapolitan milkshake from Schnipper's
Ben and Jerry's Half Baked ice cream
Chocolate chip cookie dough Dippin' Dots
Ben and Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream
Chocolate, vanilla and strawberry gelato from Ferrara in Little Italy

I even felt sick after eating Pinkberry last night and that's frozen yogurt. Explain that one to me...

I suppose I should take a hint, but I don't want to! How am I supposed to live without it??!! I can still have all the cake and cupcakes I want. Cookies? No problem. I don't really like cookies though. They aren't ice cream. I'm really close to drowning my sorrows in a bowl full of cookie dough, which is extremely dangerous.

I leave you humming "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You."

I can't eat ice cream anymore!!

The worst has happen.

If you read the title of this blog, you now know that I can't eat ice cream anymore. My world has ended and I have no reason to go on. Ok...so I'm being dramatic. But still, this is devastating! How will I go on? How will I survive? (President Whitmore from Independence Day would be disappointed in me.)
Since Lent ended I have tried on a couple of occasions to eat ice cream and every time I end up feeling sick to my stomach. It's no good. My body isn't used to processing it anymore.

Fine....Point 4: World, Point 1: BB

I suppose I should consider this a good thing. Now I can't have it all of the time, like I want it all of the time. In the long run I'm going to be healthier for it. You never know, maybe one day I'll have built my tolerance back up.

The good news is I can still eat cupcakes, cakes and other sweets. (Or is it good news....?)

I leave you humming Leann Rimes' "How Do I Live?"

I scream, you scream....blah, blah, blah

I had an interesting ice cream weekend.

On Saturday Beau, IPJ and I went to a place called Emack and Bolio's. It's an ice cream shop on Amsterdam Avenue between 78th & 79th. Not a bad location and cute, clean and small. It was a pretty warm day to begin with as we walked there from the 96th St. Subway stop. It was really windy and we held onto each other as we walked. This place serves ice cream made at the beginning of the week, so it tastes really fresh. I had a scoop of Vanilla Speck and one of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. It was nice to sit there eating ice cream and talking with my roommates. The only thing wrong was that Elyse couldn't be there. (Note: You might want to go on a warm day so you can eat your ice cream outside; there are only 3 chairs available inside at the window.)

Then yesterday I got that hankering to have ice cream again. My insatiable sweet tooth was nagging at me and I needed something to ease it. It called for ice cream. I decided to go to the grocery store and buy some. As I walked there I decided I would get some other things to....that....I needed. I get there and grab a basket. I walk through and randomly put items in the basket that I thought I should probably have, all the while muttering to myself as I go. "Yeah, I think I'll want to make an omelet sometime this week." In go the eggs and bacon. "I should probably have something other than water to drink at some point this week." In goes the apple juice. All this is because I don't want the only thing in my basket to be the ice cream my sweet tooth so craves.

I turn the corner to the frozen food aisle...and all of the freezers are off. That's right. At some point this weekend all of the freezers broke. The managers didn't clean them out, so beyond the "Do Not Open These Doors Under Any Circumstances. Thanks, The Management" signs the room temperature ice cream was laughing at me. I slowly made my way to the check-out counter and I'm forced to buy the items in my basket so it's not a wasted trip. Woe is me.

I leave you humming "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen."