Creme de la Creme

Katiedid Langrock on

My life has forever changed. And now, so will yours.

Breyers had the genius notion to allow mere mortals like us to eat heaping spoonfuls of just the most delicious part of our favorite celebratory dessert, in its new flavor called "ice cream cake."

No more needing to sharpen your garden clippers or rev up the electric saw to cut through the frozen concrete-cream in Fudgie the Whale. Now you can sit back in your favorite chair, cuddle up in your favorite sleeved blanket and dig a spoon into a carton of "chocolatey crunchies." And if you finish the carton in one sitting, so be it. Doesn't the shame lessen considerably when you know you were eating only the most delicious part of the ice cream cake? The decorative icing, the weird toothpaste-blue writing, the cake filler -- that's where the empty calories are. But spoonful after delectable spoonful of chocolatey crunchies? Those aren't empty calories, my friends; those are full-living calories. Those are living-your-best-life calories. And they are doggone worth it.

Scraping the bottom of my ice cream cake-flavored ice cream container, chocolate staining the fleece sleeves of my Snuggie, I began thinking about how delightful life could be if we only ever tolerated the best of any situation and did away with the rest, following the example of what Breyers has done with the ice cream cake. What would happen if we only indulged in the (ice) creme de la creme?

I bet that when you talk to people who have climbed Mount Everest, they light up when they talk about that view from the top. Not so much when they talk about almost freezing to death or slipping to their doom on the trek up. Sure, there is a sense of accomplishment in the climb, but I don't believe I'm alone when I say I think I'd still feel pretty proud if I survived a two-hour chairlift ride to the summit. Feeling of accomplishment: check. Amazing views: check. Only indulging in the best part of the experience: check, check.

Why stop there? You know what makes that view from Everest so awesome? The snow. You know what is not awesome? Getting wet from that snow. In the true spirit of ice cream cake-flavored ice cream, I propose we keep only the best part of snow and from now on demand dry snow. We've figured out dry shampoo; how hard can this be?

Similarly, I'd like to propose adult training wheels on bicycles. Why should young children be the only ones able to keep the best part of the bike (riding) and lose the worst part (falling)? I'm fairly confident that if potential injury were eliminated from bike riding, I'd be an avid cyclist.

I'm equally certain that I would love roller coasters if they never had hills. Just keep the fast speed, the arms in the air, the screaming and the unadulterated joy -- ya know, the good stuff -- and lose the unnecessary dips.

Speaking of dips. I love eating steamed artichoke but hate dealing with the hair covering the heart. I mean, c'mon, America, we've figured out how to create the tangelo, the labradoodle and the turducken, but we can't figure out this? In a world full of hairless cats, I feel it is well within my right to never again see a hairy artichoke.


In fact, why bother just accepting the best of a situation when we can change what is horrible altogether? We can take this movement beyond the empty carton!

Imagine a trip to the DMV with a professional glamour shot photographer ready to take pictures for your license. Now every time a cop asks for your license, he or she will surely compliment its soft lighting, feathery hair and blue eye shadow prior to writing your ticket.

Don't like getting speeding tickets, you say? Perhaps it is time we abolish speed limits. Everyone likes driving fast! Speeding is the chocolatey crunchies on the road of life.

Come to think of it, why do we have laws at all? We should just live life to the chocolatey crunchiest and burn the rest down!

Uh-oh. I think ice cream cake-flavored ice cream may have turned me into an anarchist.

I'm going to have to put on my Snuggie, open another container and ponder this.


Katiedid Langrock is author of the book "Stop Farting in the Pyramids," available at Like Katiedid Langrock on Facebook, at To find out more about her and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at

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