|Ice Cream Truck Delivery Guys: They don't make them like they used to. You WILL need a GOOD sense of HUMOR to deal with this new batch of guys.|
Obviously, I am not an overachiever mom, however, I do try to come up with creative, inexpensive but brilliant party ideas for my kids. For my 4 year old this week, I had envisioned the ice cream truck pulling into our driveway with his song from The Entertainer blaring for the sake of the partygoers. This would seem like a pretty easy task to finish. At the most inopportune times since Spring warmed this city, the Ice Cream Truck could come flying down our road, causing confusion and dismay to our entire family. Usually, that bastard would decide to arrive during dinner - when the kids were finally making progress on their plates of food. They would hear the music, stop what they were doing, and fly to the window to press their greasy fingers and oily noses to the window and gawk.
Even if I would agree to get them ice cream on those particular days, there was no way possible for me to get my purse, find money, shoes and the mental and physical endurance of Bruce Jenner to make it in time to stop the truck. He had been really ticking me off lately -but I had to be nice - I really wanted to pull this surprise off for Youngest.
I had it in my mind from about a month ago that I wanted to do this for his party. I figured that the next time I heard him at dinnertime, I'd be ready to run out and stop him to arrange the time for him to come to the party. Hell, I even planned to tip him for his efforts - and he was going to make a killing off the kids and the adults at the party and I planned to pay for all of it as part of the entertainment portion of the party. Who needs an animal balloon maker or scary clown when you can have scary ice cream guy - at least they can score a delicious ice cream treat of their choice and run off into the yard to play.
Days went by. No truck. Days turned into weeks. No truck. We were one week out to the party. I was starting to panic.
I had just gotten out of the shower, hair sopping wet, no bra, clothes not picked out yet for the day. Nothing. Wouldn't you know, that's when I heard the Entertainer song at a distance on my street. In slow, slurred, deep, robotic sound I yell....Son of aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...and then...noooooooooooo.
I look around. I see a strapless sundress from the day before. I am desperate - I have seconds at best to get this thing on and stop the driver. I throw it on as fast as I can and bounce all the way downstairs. Where the hell are my sandals? No where to be found. I glance up and see him fly by. He's getting ready to turn by the park next to our house. Boom - gone. I fling the door open, barefoot, nothing but a sundress. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose him now. God knows when he'll be back again.
I run, barefoot, boobloose and fancy free down the street. This is right out of a movie. I am determined, so determined that I pay no mind to the pebbles being lodged into the soles of my feet, and the severe chafing going on from running through the park in a sundress. He stops for a kid. Here's my chance to gain on him.
I'm out of breath, frantic, humiliated, pissed, and determined. He looks at me like Lady you must really want a damn ice cream cone.
"Do - breath - you - breath - do - breath - birthday- breath - parties???" I pant.
Yes. Says the twenty something in the wife beater, droopy shorts, boxers showing while accessorized with a chain link wallet protector and a nose-connected-to ear-ring. I'm looking at him like I am backstage at a Blink 182 after show and expect a half naked woman to pop out of the ice cream freezer and call him Big Daddy. Scare kids much dude?
|Angry Ice Cream Truck Guy and His Doppleganger Travis Barker.|
We agree on a time, I give him my address as he says in a stoned/drunken/laid back/hungover/whatever dude kind of voice, "yeahhh I just drove past there..." No shit Sherlock.
Deal done. He's coming to my house at 12noon, pulling in, song blaring, into my driveway to give the 3 and 4 year olds at the party the thrill of their summer by giving them Carte Blanche in the ice cream truck with the tatooed up, pierced to the hilt, earlobe stretcher wearin' driver. Whatevs. The things we do for our kids.
I walk back home, feeling victorious and hoping not too many people and/or neighbors witnessed me in my Summer Breeze get up and barefoot, hair blowing in the wind, no makeup frazzled looking mess. It's done. The arrangements are made. This will be my big punch to my party. I rock. Mommy is going to deliver at this party.
The day before the party, I get a phone call from Blink 182 lookalike guy.
Blink 182 Travis Barker Gone Wrong: Dude, this is the ice cream truck guy, Dale.
Me: Hello Dale.
Stoner Dale: Dude, sorry, I can't come to your kid's party tomorrow. It kinda messes up my day gig that I landed.
Drunken Dale: My day gig. Can't swing the party dude. Sorry.
Me: Do you have someone else you can call or recommend because I was kind of counting on the old ice cream truckapalooza.
Disenchanted Dale: No - I mean there's one dude I know about an hour away but I don't know his number. Sorry.
Me: Goodbye Dale.
|Hey Dale, tell me if this sounds like a phone hanging up.|
No Ice Cream Truck. No Blink 182. No Ice-Screamapalooza. I'm going down in flames for this one.
I had to think fast. I had to scramble. I went to the grocery store and bought up as many different kinds of Ice Cream Novelties I could come up with . You know, the fun ones like Rocketpops and Creamsicles, Fudgesicles, and Character faces. It probably cost me 1/2 of what Blink 182 angry dude would've charged me - and oh my God were those kids happy when they got to pick from the variety we had.
This whole ordeal made me think. I need my own damn Ice Cream Truck. Brilliant. I'd be giving that shit away, taking kids for rides, letting them play with my loudspeaker, shouting annoying things into the microphone to my annoying neighbors, etc. That would be so much fun. I'd pick the most inopportune times to drive around the neighborhood while stopping and slowing, then hitting the gas just as the kids think they are almost there. Kidding. But it is a funny thought.
|Instead of the ragtime theme song to the Entertainer, I'd have to go with the heavy sounds of "Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangsta..." while rolling with my homies in my Ice Cream Truck.|
The birthday party is done, and I am hanging up my party hat until next March. As far as the Ice Cream Truck. Dale is on my shit list. And he's seen me at my worst. He's got me where he wants me. Son of a.
Cheers and Happy Birthday Parties now and always,