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WORLD ICE CREAM CHAMPION?
Entry 8 of 25 | show all | print this entry |
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For the second straight week, my illustrious "Date of the Week" program got itself into loads of trouble. Because I had failed to meet my cute Southern Bell (with the smile of a lamb, a caring voice with which to call me "darlin'," and the daisy-field smell of a girl totally pure from city-life evils) during my recent hitchhiking trip to Georgia, I once again had to scramble to find a date.
It was 9 p.m. on a Sunday - the "Date of the
Week" program faced a three-hour life expectancy. A
blond girl turned me down. I then asked out a Greek.
I crossed my fingers, hoping she'd accept.
C'mon, c'mon, C'MON! ...To my horror, she said no.
Two hours remained in the week, and the "Date of
the Week" program hung by a thread. I stumbled around
campus, as desperate for a date as a homeless person
searching the grass for change is desperate for a
quarter. I was pathetic.
...But, then, out of nowhere, I made a miraculous
recovery to SAVE the "Date of the Week" program - and
in grand fashion, too, because my date was a Bulgarian
model. That's pretty similar to a homeless person
finding a $500 bill resting on top of the gutter.
Woohoohooeee!
Unfortunately, my experience with models isn't
good, and the only advice I can offer is: MODERN
ODDYSEUS' DATING ADVICE # 5 - When it comes to dating
models, DON'T take Modern Oddyseus' advice.
(Here's a flashback...my last date with a model.
She came from the African continent - absolutely
beautiful - and I thought she digged me. Riding home
from the restaurant, I made my move. I told her to
kiss me in the Zulu language, "(click)-mbula!" She
didn't know what to say. I assumed this meant she
wanted to kiss me, so I put my arm around her and
leaned in. Meanwhile, the car I was driving started
to veer off the bridge towards the water, and my date
shrieked. It was probably one of the most-frightened
moments of her life. I sadly returned my hands to the
steering wheel and quickly drove her home.)
To stay on the safe side, I decided not to make
any moves during last week's date. Instead, Hristiana
and I made things for eachother out of clay. She has
a real knack for sculpture, too. (remember MODERN
ODDYSEUS' DATING ADVICE # 3? - When you have a
talented date, try to get them to make you something
that's valuable and that you need (such as a handsome
paperweight to sit on your endtable.)
We sat on a picnic table overlooking the bay, and
the conversation was great. Hristiana is no
Michaelangelo, but when we made eachother our
"favorite animal", she made a swan so detailed that
she nearly convinced me that it was my favorite animal
too. But it's not - I made a squid.
We did some abstracts, then combined forces to
create a deserted island scene. The island turned out
really well, with a monkey resting amid fallen
coconuts and sipping from a tropical drink. The scene
was mostly Hristiana's creation, though, because
everything I tried to make only caused her to frown
and say, "Oh, actually, I don't think we need that for
the island. We won't use it." My poor sculpting
achieved respectability only when I made a figurine of
Hristiana wearing a lifejacket for "memories of one
another." For Hristiana's memory of me, she made an
ice cream cone.
I wanted to promote "Modern Oddyseus' Travel Annals"
at my college cafeteria the other day. My friend,
Luke, quieted down the hundreds of people eating
lunch. I stood up on a chair and said aloud, "In
1968, Dennett D'Angelo ate 2 1/2 pounds of ice cream
in 90 seconds - a world record. I will now attempt to
break that record."
A crowd of thirty or so people gathered around
me, as I focused on 41 ounces of ice cream. "Go!"
said Dexter, timing me with his watch.
This was the moment my all-ice cream-diet had
been training me for for years. My teeth have
dullified (de-sharpilated?) from never using them to
tear meat, and my throat has smoothened out like a
seal's hide. My mouth has adapted into the perfect
ice cream-eating machine!
I put the first spoonful of Vanilla Custard into
my mouth. People screamed all around me. "Quicker,
quicker!" "More, Justin, more!" I shoved spoonful
after spoonful into my mouth. "Come on, stuff it all
in there!" I struggled to swallow what I put in my
mouth, but I couldn't keep up. With every spoonful,
my mouth kept expanding and expanding.
"Thirty seconds are up!" said Dexter.
"Mmmmm!" I yelled. Time was going QUICK. I kept
grabbing more spoonfuls, though the thick ice cream
never wanted to go down my mouth. "Catch up, Justin!"
Just when I thought my cheeks would explode, I started
missing my mouth with the spoon and smearing the ice
cream on my face.
"Thirty seconds left!" said Dexter.
I didn't know where all this ice cream could
possibly go. I figured it was going to start coming
out my ears or eyeballs.
"Fifteen seconds left!" said Dexter.
I tried grabbing the huge chunk of ice cream that
remained on my plate, but I couldn't lift it. It was
about this time when I realized I wasn't going to
break the record. Dexter called, "Time!" and I
weighed the results.
It turns out I only ate 10 ounces of the 41 I
needed to break the record. I wasn't even close.
What a miserable defeat. Apparently, this character
Dennett D'Angelo must've subscribed to an all-ice
cream-diet far superior to mine. I should consult his
doctor.
I took a lot of heat for not finishing that ice
cream, including from Pansyckas. Rrrggghhh! I said
to him, "Pansyckas, it was a world record! ...A WORLD
RECORD!!! Do you own a world record!?"
"Mmmm, yes," he said.
I think he's lying.
Another week, another date.
Date of the Week VI became the greatest challenge
the "Date of the Week" program has ever faced. The
week was wreaked full of cancellations.
First, a Swiss girl couldn't come to dinner
because she had class. Then, on Sunday, an American
cancelled out on our date to go chase armadillos. How
could she have missed out on CHASING ARMADILLOS?
She's got to be kicking herself over that.
At 5 p.m, the clock was ticking on another week.
I recovered and found another girl to go to dinner
with, but she was nowhere to be found at our 8 o'clock
rendezvous time. Where could she be?
My morale was at an all-time low. Three strikes
and you're out, they say. I suppose it's time to take
the shovels out from the closet and bury the glorious
"Date of the Week" program...It had witnessed the
first Greek sprinter to win an Olympic medal in 2000
years; it had watched calmly as two presidential
candidates came to its town; it had survived the fire
of Yugoslavia's big round building; but, it couldn't
survive week six.
"Date of the Week" program... b. September 6,
2000. d. October 15, 2000. May she Rest In Pea...
No, no! I can't let it go out this way. I need
to find strength. I should...I must...I will...
"Press On!!!"
I sprinted to the library, as fast as the Greek
Achile in historic times. I found Eduarda, a nice,
sandy-skinned girl from Brazil. She was studying, but
would she accompany me on a short date???
I bit my lip in anticipation of the answer.
"Yes."
Waahaaaooo! Modern Oddyseus' "Date of the Week"
program will live to see another week!!!
Our date was a Portuguese dinner. I'm trying to
learn Portuguese, so I asked Eduarda if she'd agree to
speak only Portuguese with me while I treated her to
Denny's.
For my first conversation of speaking only
Portuguese, I did pretty well. Some other people in
the restaurant overheard us speaking, and they
complemented us on how cute it was that we tried
speaking another language together. They were right -
it was cute. MODERN ODDYSEUS' DATING ADVICE # 6 -
Whenever possible, it's always a turn-on to the
opposite sex if you speak with an accent.
As for our dinner - what did we eat? Gelado,
ofcourse. (Portuguese for ice cream) No world
records tonight, but atleast "Date of the Week" lives
on thanks to Eduarda.
Listen carefully, because this is the most
important advice I'm ever going to give you. If
you're not already, you should be taking notes.
MODERN ODDYSEUS' DATING ADVICE # 7 - PRESS ON!!!
later, Modern Oddyseus
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