January 22, 2010

Fact Is Better: Cynical Old Ice Cream Eaters and Their Servers From A Different Century

On a Girl Date we found ourselves (as per usual) finishing the night at an ice cream parlor.

Why do the weirdest conversations happen to me in, around, or involving ice cream?

The Cake Maker: “Do you realize that people born in 1990 are twenty years old this year.”
Me: “Yes, thank you, I’m aware of that.” *pause* “Do you realize people born in 2000 are ten years old this year?”
The Cake Maker: “Which means in like five years, the fifteen year olds dating the sixteen year olds will be dating someone born in a totally different century then themselves! EWWWW!”
Me: *looks on at her in sheer wonder of her thought processing*
The Cake Maker: “I bet the staff here was all born after 1990.”
Me: “I’m gonna go ask.” *gets up and crosses to counter where ice cream/donut girl is scraping the marble slab free of ice crystals* “Excuse me, what year were you born?”
Ice Cream/Donut Server Girl: “1993!” *overly chipper she answers*
Me: *nods* “Thanks” *as I head back to the table I mouth to The Cake Maker dramatically “NINETY THREE”*
*I sit back down and shovel in a huge spoonful of ice cream. A few seconds go by and dawn breaks over marblehead as I’ve figured out the math in my head.*
Me: “OHWEECWAHELYITEEN!” (translation: “Holy crap, she’s like sixteen!”)
The Cake Maker: *begins snorting with laughter, doubles over, and can’t catch her breath.*
Me: “Di’ you unner-ann me?” (*trying to chew and swallow ice cream quickly when having a major revelation isn’t as easy as one might think*)
The Cake Maker: *nods, wiping away tears from laughing so hard* “That’s because I speak Ice Cream."
Me: “Which is better than the language of love.”
*we continue eating our ice cream*
Me: “OH MAN!!!  You realize, I’m like ten years older than that girl! TEN YEARS. Ahhhh, woe is me!” *I pretend to slam my head on the table repeatedly.* “Is it awful that I really want to go tell her, just outta spite, that there are no jobs waiting for her when she graduates college?”
The Cake Maker: “Or that all of her friends will stop talking to her once they get married?”
Me: *looking at The Cake Maker amused* “When did we become so cynical?”
The Cake Maker: “When our Saturday nights culminated at 10pm in a ice cream parlor, where the median age was sixteen.”

True story

Further proof that fact is better than fiction.