Doesn't know how lucky he has it.
Trips to the beach, margaritas in backyards, ice cream trucks. These are the things that define summer, two out of three of which I get to regularly partake in as an adult, which sucks, because I’m a 3-for-3 type of person, or at least aspire to be. In my elderly years, I have had to forgo the limitless appeal of the ice cream truck, because nothing is weirder than being 20-something years old and waiting in line with a bunch of kids half your height wielding handfuls of sticky quarters that they didn’t have to work for in their grubby little hands. Except being 30. That’s weirder.
So yeah, I can’t wait in line at ice cream trucks anymore. And you know what? F*** all those little kids. They don’t know how good they have it—playing around in fields of water illegally sourced from fire hydrants, living off their parents’ dime, taking naps in the middle of the day and never waking up with the all-consuming panic they’ve wasted what little time they have left on this earth. That AND THEY GET ICE CREAM TRUCKS—all they want in their narrow little world brought straight to them—Push Pops, Crunch Bars, those orange jumbo dick things—and procured from the cool confines of a rickety white truck operated by some pedophile (joke… unless the ice cream truck is run by the local church, in which case, half-joke?).
As the cruel jingle jangle of the Mister Softee danced down the road yesterday, I got to thinking: There should be an ice cream truck for adults, that served all sorts of adult things, so that a cloud of shame never surrounded you as you stood in its shade, handing a dude some cold hard cash in exchange for some much needed contraband. And so I made up a list of things I wish were delivered with the casual speed and convenience of an ice cream truck. Because though I can’t have a Drumstick anymore, I can hope that one day I can run out onto the street and procure myself a 2 mg Zanie bar in small consolation. I’m sick of kids having all the fun.
- Computer paper (have to start somewhere)
- Bike tire caps (because some d**khead is always stealing mine)
- Trader Joes Nacho-flavored kale chips
- Dog food (because if it came on a truck my mom would stop asking me to come with her to PETCO aka hell on earth)
- Potting soil (see #4, insert “Home Depot”)
- Non-irritating lubricant
- Mind eraser
- One million dollars
- Refreshed MetroCards
- Dry cleaning
- Xanax bars (2.0 mg)
- A wise babushka with good advice and tarot cards
- iPhone chargers
- Momo Sushi Shack Spicy Tuna McBombs
- A giant check from Publisher’s Clearing House
- Three-dollar bodega umbrellas
- The energy of my youth and my face at 26
- Ryan Gosling
Reprinted with permission from The StyleCon. Want more?
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