There's a thin line between love and hate.
It was May the first time I heard La Cucaracha pumping through the streets this year. An unseasonably cold, cloudy day. Not your typical Cucaracha kinda day. It's difficult to describe the cocktail of emotions I felt in that moment: Anger, fear, lust, hatred... I scrambled to the front window to confirm the obvious. And in my mind, I waved my fist.
When I was a kid, the ice cream guys were hunky, shirtless teenagers in tight cut-offs who rode bikes with freezers soldered to the front end. Oo la la. They had dark tans, money belts, freedom... and they had ice cream. Now I was a pretty private kid but, overcome by emotion, I confessed to my mother that I would one day marry a DickeeDee.
These days, ice cream sales have gone a little more corporate. It's now a camper van (heh?) that rolls by echoing robotic music, hand claps and literally calls out to kids. Total pediphilemobile. As a parent, I now hate the ice cream man. WHY are they combing the streets, interrupting our bed-time stories and our nourishing dinners, turning innocent children into intolerable whiners?
I used to want to marry a DickeeDee. And now I want to kill him. A natural progression?
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Ah Summer... Part 2
There's a thin line between love and hate.
It was May the first time I heard La Cucaracha pumping through the streets this year. An unseasonably cold, cloudy day. Not your typical Cucaracha kinda day. It's difficult to describe the cocktail of emotions I felt in that moment: Anger, fear, lust, hatred... I scrambled to the front window to confirm the obvious. And in my mind, I waved my fist.
When I was a kid, the ice cream guys were hunky, shirtless teenagers in tight cut-offs who rode bikes with freezers soldered to the front end. Oo la la. They had dark tans, money belts, freedom... and they had ice cream. Now I was a pretty private kid but, overcome by emotion, I confessed to my mother that I would one day marry a DickeeDee.
These days, ice cream sales have gone a little more corporate. It's now a camper van (heh?) that rolls by echoing robotic music, hand claps and literally calls out to kids. Total pediphilemobile. As a parent, I now hate the ice cream man. WHY are they combing the streets, interrupting our bed-time stories and our nourishing dinners, turning innocent children into intolerable whiners?
I used to want to marry a DickeeDee. And now I want to kill him. A natural progression?
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Dude....isn't your Life Partner a former Dickie Dee? Actually, I started to resent the ice cream truck (which plays a lullabye--is he trying to lure infants??) near the end of the school year. The principal gave him a talking to about the fact that children are not to bring money to our school and he must not troll that block until well after hours....then our Little League was targeted and games actually STOPPED while he blew by, little Rookie tongues hanging out and the proverbial ball was dropped. Our LL president had a shouting match with him during a tournament, only partly because he was hurting concession sales...yeesh, I feel ya sister. Although I don't think I could burn all those Rocket Pops and Creamsicles and sleep at night...
ReplyDeleteNo, my Life Partner was never a Dickie Dee but we have been known to roll play. Were you at that party? Hardeeharhar...
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