Dippin' Dots. For the uninitiated, the website advertises these small, flavor-packed cryogenically frozen ice cream balls are sold in "thousands" of malls and at amusement parks around the country. Their motto is "Dippin' Dots: Ice Cream of the Future." They are celebratin' their twenty-first year of distributing these all-too-tasty treats around the world. But, for me, this has long meant that Dippin' Dots are an idea whose time has come. Thus, I propose a new motto: "Dippin' Dots: Ice Cream of the Present?" (The question mark is there on purpose, it is not a mark of my ineptitude with computers.)
For instance, look at those children in picture #1, on the left. They are clearly Dippin' Dot nymphomaniacs, unable to stop eating Dippin' Dots for long enough to huff the liquid nitrogen in which the ice cream is frozen. And look at their heads: suspiciously malformed, likely the result of Dippin' Dot dependence. Worse yet is fetal Dippin' Dot Syndrome; imagin' of the brains of affected children looks like this:
Yes, it's the dreaded brain freeze, congenital Dippin' Dot style. Look at the huge blue DD in the cerebellum!
I have pictures of both Elisha Cuthbert and Jason Alexander eatin' Dippin' Dots but I am so f'in' lazy I can't even post them. Also, my lawyer says there may be legal issues with postin' these pictures. So I'll tell you about other parts of the last couple days. Check back in five years for "Dippin' Dots: Ice Cream of Antiquity?"
I also went to another rodeo yesterday, friends. I am quite a rodeo aficionado now and plan to join the Peace Core with the intention of setting up rodeo as a recreational sport in locales as far-flung as Wasilla, Slovenia, Lesotho, and Spain (muerte al bullfighting, viva bullriding!) I am fully in the process of selecting a cowboy hat and boots to put on layaway, as the ones I wanted cost $200 and $300, respectively. The name of yesterday's rodeo was "The grandaddy of 'em all," aka Cheyenne Frontier Days Rodeo. There was a French cowboy!
Also, I went fishing today for the first time in quite a while. I managed to catch my second through twelfth fish of all time (my first occured when I was a small child) and defeat my dad in our fishing contest which occurs every twenty years. I managed to free all eleven fish without any fatalities, wade in the lake without ruining my phone, and get a wikkid sunburn in my traditional T-shirt and socks pattern. Anyway, tonight is sing-along night at the local bar, so off I go on my bike!