Ice Cream Float; New York, New York

A gargantuan ice cream float at New York, New York. The restaurant, not the city. I feel the need to clarify that because frankly, it's confusing. Maybe it's just my excessively inquisitive mind, but I get confused easily, and what's with restaurants that aim to befuddle and perplex potential clients? I can think of a dozen restaurant names off the top of my head that thoroughly confuse people when they call you and are like "where you at" and I'm like "yo I'm at [insert restaurant name]" (I may not actually talk like this, but please feel free to use your imagination), and they're like "..... what?"

For example, and this not an exhaustive list:
- Manhattan Fish Market. Not actually in Manhattan. Nor a market.
- Secret on Jalan Damai. ("Where you at?" "Secret." "No, come on." "SECRET." "Where is the darn place?" "SECRET!" "I hate you." Confusion abounds.)
- Apartment. ("Where you at?" "Apartment." "Whose apartment?" "I don't know who owns it." "What is wrong with you!?" Confusion abounds.)
Anddd so on and so forth.

So I had my ice cream float at New York, New York not-the-city-but-the-restaurant. It was gigantic and monstrous, and is strangely fitting for my mood on this Sunday night, as I am currently sitting at Starbucks with an assortment of caffeinated drinks rushing something for tomorrow morning. Rushing three different projects for tomorrow morning, to be precise.

Do you know what stress looks like? Stress looks like a menacing ice cream float bullying you. And I know I'm stressed when I even start to villify my favourite drinks. Sigh. Back to work.

Root Beer Float; Delicious

One of the many perks of being an adult (almost on par with the Main Perk, which is the beloved Pay Check) is that I can now consume fizzy drinks whenever I choose.

Yes people, it is sadly and shockingly true: I am a product of one of those families that did not (still DOES not, actually) stock fizzy drinks in the refrigerator. And growing up, I was never allowed to order Coke or any carbonated variation thereof whenever we ate out at restaurants. Even though I crave sugar like crack and this craving started when I was still a wee tyke.

As a result of this fizzy drink prohibition, I grew up intensely jealous of people who got to drink Coke and have ice cream floats whenever they wanted. Ice Cream Float Nights became much anticipated and awaited rare celebratory events (wait, you think I'm being hyperbolic? I'm not. We used ice cream floats to toast joyous and special occasions. Like New Year's Eve) whenever my mom DID buy a liter of Coke that was to be shared between four sugar-deprived siblings, none of whom really wanted to share this coveted elixir of joy.

But now I'm an adult and can drink Coke whenever I want! Yes! Independence! Freedom! Fizzy!


And now it is my little brother who laments the fact that he can't drink Coke whenever he wants, forcing him to question the injustice within the parental system. I sympathize, but ultimately: too bad, buddy.

You can look forward to the Freedom of the Fizzy when YOU become an adult and join me in the adult world (please take your time, I like you as a kid). We'll toast your adulthood with a Coke ice cream float.