chocolate cows

I tried a new flavor of ice cream. It's new to me, anyway. Ben & Jerry's Vermonty Python.

Coffee liqueur ice cream with a chocolate cookie crumb swirl and fudge cows.

I like coffee. I like ice cream. I like chocolate. And I like cows. I'm sold. It tastes great, full of chocolatey cow goodness; the only problem is that the fudge cows are kill-me-sweet. One must only eat a few cows at a time in order to avoid a cataclysmic tongue implosion. I nearly suffered this horrible fate, but I found the strength to put the ice cream away. Then Craig sang me a song about cows and I laughed and clapped my hands.

Even the cat - who is known in some circles as what you would call "a chocolate ice cream (and cow) lover"- came running out to partake. He had his two-finger licks' worth and licked his chops for a while before retreating to his sanctuary under the bed, full of cow-y goodness.

Though I do love me some fudge cows, I have to say that the best ice cream flavor is still Chunky Monkey. (Ok, the best best is actually Doonesberry Sorbet, but they discontinued that one.) I heart banana ice cream with chocolate chunks. Sure, there are walnuts too, but you don't eat those. You spit them out onto the lid of the ice cream to dispose of later. I'm pretty sure these chocolate chunks are made of the same material that compose the fudge cows. If only there were some way to combine the two...

No, that's kind of a bad idea. des would be heard from no more. She would spend her days eating Chunky Vermonkey Python Ice Cream. She would stop going to work, which seems like a good idea at firest, but then would quickly run out of ways to pay for said ice cream. And a place to eat it. And someone to eat it with. Yes, I have to buy my friends. But if I stop going to work and keep eating this iced- cream that I've invented, most of my friends would abandon me for more fruitful pursuits.

Of course, my true friends would be right there eating it with me, cows and all.