Ice Cream, Man

On Monday, I popped into Aldi to grab a premade salad for lunch.

("How is this cat so fat," you wonder, "if he's eating salads for lunch?" The image is giving away the answer, but stay with me here.)

I was in line behind a UPS driver who was only buying a box of giant ice cream sandwiches. I think they were even called Fat Boys. Oddly, the person behind me was also buying Fat Boys and when their stack of groceries toppled over, the only thing that slid onto my side of the divider was the Fat Boys.

I did a search after typing out this post, and yes, they are called Fat Boys.

I was thinking, "those must be some really good ice creams."

On the way out the door, the driver popped two of the sandwiches out and handed me the remaining four.

"Oh thanks, I'm good."

"No, take them. I do this every day. I buy the box, but I only want two. The rest would just melt in my truck, so I give them away."

I ate the first one right there in the parking lot. The cold ice cream box helped chill my untouched salad.

Back at work, I was thinking I could offer them around, but instead, I stuck them in the freezer, and I had a nice little treat for a few afternoons. They're nothing special, by the way. They're very good, but only in the way that every ice cream sandwich is very good.

Ko asked me why I didn't share them in the office.

The answer is easy: because I'm a pig.