Saturday, May 13, 2006

from the endearing childhood quirks department

when we were kids and my mom would take us to Baskin Robbins, everyone else would have ordered their ice cream and be eating it while I was still perusing the flavors - I mean, they have 31 of them, you know? I wanted to make sure that I got the best one.

I would inspect each and every different flavor, there were some that automatically got ruled out like Pistachio or Butter Pecan (because, ew), but there were some that deserved a sampling, like Bubble Gum or Cookies & Cream (neither of which are ever as good as I want them to be).

Finally, my mom would be so irritated that she would threaten me with not getting ice cream if I didn't make up my mind IMMEDIATELY.

So I would finally make my decision, step up to the counter and tell the pink and brown clad ice cream scooper type person "Rocky Road."

Every. Single. Time.

Always Rocky Road.

I would swear that I was going to try something new, but it always down to Rocky Road.

And still, today, I can rock the Jamocha Almond Fudge on ocassion, but it always comes back to Rocky Road.

Do you think that means something?

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