Heil, Leah!

Warning: This post contains explicit language because Mary Rose has a potty mouth

I really should be packing (ah, who the hell am I kidding? I won't pack until right before I leave tomorrow), but I feel the need to blog about my Friday ice cream for some reason. :) I was at work and my friend Jamie walked by and said, "There's Klondike bars on the table" (we have a little table where there is almost always some kind of food on). I said, "Oh, I haven't eaten lunch yet...." Then I had to go see Mary Rizzo (who, much like Mary Simon, I can't just call 'Mary' but must call 'Mary Rizzo,' much to her amusement) about a fax or something and she was eating one of them. I almost started drooling. One because I have a crush on Mary Rizzo (always the straight, older married women, I tell you) and two because for a Klondike bar that shit looked good. I was like, "Why the fuck am I caring that I haven't eaten lunch yet? Am I my fucking own mother or what? What the hell is wrong with me?" So I ran over to the table and there was a fabulous spread- I guess one of the vendors brought the ice cream in (I don't know what the hell that means but that's what I was told). I had no idea that Klondike bars came in that many varieties- there was of course vanilla and chocolate but there was also some peanut butter caramel kind and neapolitan (how the fuck do you spell that??) and something else. I snatched up one of the last two PB caramel kind and snuck into my mailroom to eat it. I was hiding because it was so good that I was sucking it off the aluminum package. Sad but true.

I'm off to the Cape tomorrow, and I know we will at least stop at the B&J's in P-town, and I'm sure that other ice cream will be had as well. I will blog about it upon my return. Miss me. I'll miss you.