I would have a lot more respect for Ben and Jerry’s if they would just accept the fact that no person in their right mind would eat a pint of their frozen goodness in 4 sittings. Ok, strike that. No person in their right mind would buy a pint of the little temptress in the first place. You buy Ben and Jerry’s because you’re NOT in your right mind. You’re emotionally vulnerable and unstable. Blame it on the whoremones, boy problems, work/school-related stress, or any combination of the above. You buy Ben and Jerry’s because it is the only thing that makes sense in your delusional mind.
Insult to injury is the fact that you obviously aren’t capable of making a rational decision (why else would you be buying ice cream) and to make matters worse you are now forced to decide between Mud Pie, Chocolate Macadamia, Chubby Hubby, and My Chihuahua Bites (wait... I think that last one might be an OPI). Anyways… you get the picture. The bottom line is that all you want is to drown you sorrows in a sea of chocolate and now you are forced to choose between the chocolate ice cream with a coffee liqueur swirl and the chocolate ice cream with chocolate-covered macadamia nuts. You have obviously ruled out Chubby Hubby because a. chubby is the LAST thing you are going to worry about at a time like this and b. it only serves to further remind you of the boy who is absolutely NOT hubby material who drove you to this madness in the first place. So, the most rational choice is Mud Pie because I mean hey if the chocolate doesn’t do the trick the Bailey’s absolutely will.
I highly recommend taking a spoon to the grocery store with you, because when that little Jezebel is riding shotgun and you still have a 5 minute drive home you could end up doing questionable things while waiting for that darn light to turn green. I mean I’m not going to judge you for eating it with your hands, but the guy sitting beside you at the intersection might not be so understanding.
Once you have downed the thing in what always seems to be record time, the sorrow you felt over your miserable love life, your absurd professor, or the Mt. Vesuvius on your forehead is NOTHING compared to the disgust you feel over inhaling enough ice cream to feed the average American family.
4 servings in 18.6 seconds? That’s nothing to be ashamed of; you may have actually qualified to sign with the International Federation of Competitive Eating (IFOCE). Kobayashi would be proud.