Monday, July 26, 2010

"Ice Cream, Officer?"

My lack of driving skills and I have been pulled over 11 times.

Tonight, we made it a dozen.

As I was pulling out of the Inkwell Coffee House in Long Branch, yes, that's right folks, your favorite improv comedy venue, I developed the sudden urge for some Tasti-D-Lite. For those of you who are unaware of what this treasure is, it's downright 'skinny ice cream'. That's right, ice cream, but not really. Frozen yogurt, yet, not at all. It's delicious and conveniently located a block and a half away from Inkwell.

Anyway, after two hours of ballroom dancing and discussing how many calories are in desserts at Applebees with some fellow HDO members, Tasti-D-Lite was just what I needed, and Tasti-D-Lite was what I was going to get. As I made my way into the small shack of an ice cream haven illuminated by blue neon lights, I ordered my chocolate macaroon (I can't say ice cream, because once again, it isn't) in a waffle cone (because I eat ice cream like I'm 12) coated in rainbow sprinkles and butterfingers pieces (because one topping is never enough topping). There was something deep inside telling me that driving home while eating this gem of frozen goodness could be a challenge, though nothing I haven't done before. So my knees did the driving as I devoured what started as a cone, and at the squeeze of my left hand, crumbled into a mound of melting frozen goodness and a dozen little waffle cone pieces.

It was then I saw the lights.

At first I was convinced they were going after somebody else, because my knees are wonderful drivers, but then I realized that the cop car and I were the only two on the road. I grabbed the wheel with one chocolate covered hand and pulled over to the best of my ability. Meanwhile, my face is covered in ice cream, as is my chest, the top of my shirt, my thighs and my steering wheel. I was a mess, but you wouldn't have wasted the $5.75 Tasti-D-Lite, either. That's no bargain.

"License and registration, please." I continued to lick all parts of my left hand as my right held what was quickly becoming all liquid. It was then the officer noticed my ice cream took precedent over this whole authority situation. I explained that I had just gotten the cone a moment prior and that I could not waste the $5.75. The officer was obviously an ice-cream hating Christian, because he then instructed me to get rid of the cone (well, cone pieces). I panicked for a minute, and then went about reaching out my window to throw the cone on the ground, when the officer informed me that I would then be littering, and he would be forced to write me an additional ticket due to the paper surrounding the bottom of the cone. It was then I realized that I was bent over in front of the strong hand of the law. So I did what any hungry, foolish twenty year-old would do and I shoved all that was left of my cone into my mouth. He stood looking down at me, somewhat baffled and somewhat disapproving. I then wiped my hands on my shirt (goodbye blouse) and handed him my license, registration, insurance and chocolate covered PBA card. He disappeared for a minute, walked back, handed me my things along with a wet one and simply said 'I Love Tasti-D-Lite, clean up and have yourself a good night, now.'

So the moral of my story is, always eat Tasti-D-Lite, or at least carry a PBA card.

-Amylee (you know, that other girl)

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