This has been the summer of ice cream for me. As a friend recently pointed out (in an observational way, not a judgmental one, in case you were wondering) I’ve been eating lots of it.
Maybe it’s because my boyfriend’s been flaneuring around Europe without me (flaneur, for the record, is a noun, not a verb, but I use it as both. My blog, my rules.) and I’ve been emotionally eating in his absence. Or maybe it’s because what the hell else should I do during a beachless, vacationless summer in the city? Ice cream is IT.
Yesterday I even waited in line for it. A pretty long line too, about 35 minutes total, spent between a pack of NYU freshmen and a couple of whiny women straight from a midtown office. So why would I deal with that when there are somewhere around 5 billion other places to get ice cream in this city?
Cause it was from the Big Gay Ice Cream Truck! I’ve been tracking the truck (which constantly changes location) for a few weeks now, missing it because of conflicting work schedules, being out of town (the truck, not me) and friends who didn’t want to wait in line for ice cream. But everything fell into place yesterday and I was able to get my ice cream, in all its delicious, big, gay glory! Continue reading