Let me preface this by saying that in spite of (or maybe because of) his quirks, I love my husband very, very much. Also, this post is with his full permission, and even encouragement. So while it may seem like I am mocking him and his addiction to ice cream...well, I kind of am, but at least he said I could.
But I digress. On to the story.
My relationship with Brett began over ice cream. I guess it was a good indicator of things to come.
The first time we ever hung out, he called me up and convinced me to go to Haagen Daaz with him. This was back in high school, right before he asked me to the prom. We went to Haagen Daaz, and I had like one scoop of chocolate, and he had three scoops of mocha almond fudge. As we were leaving, he got another hand-packed pint of mocha almond fudge. He said it was for his mom. At the time, I thought that was cute. Now I know it was a lie and the ice cream was for him, but he didn't want to seem like a total fat kid in front of me. That bashfulness is looong gone, I tell you.
The second time I ever hung out with Brett, I went to his house. This was right after he asked me to prom. We were back in his room, listening to music, I think, (yes! really! we were listening to music and talking. we actually used to talk a lot. So as much as that sounds like a cover for making out, that is not what we were doing. we didn't even kiss until prom...the making out in his room came later.)
Aaaanyway, so we were listening to music and he asked if I wanted some ice cream.
I, not usually being one to turn down ice cream, said sure. Before I go any further, let me explain how I relate to ice cream. My favorite flavor, the same now as it has been for years, is Breyers Natural Vanilla, with a little chocolate syrup on top, but not too much, because I still like to be able to taste the vanilla. I like plain ice cream. Boring ice cream, as Brett calls it. The craziest I get in terms of ice cream having stuff in it is maybe if it is vanilla ice cream with Oreos in it, and even then it's only rarely that I deviate from plain vanilla or chocolate.
Also, I eat ice cream with the tiniest spoon possible, so as to savor the experience. Up until I was in college, I would actually eat ice cream with a baby spoon. (Yes, I know, totally strange. As Bree knows, I was an odd child.)
Anyway. Back to the story. Brett came back into the room with a giant mixing bowl in one hand and two giant spoons in the other. He set the bowl down on the floor, and I saw that it was filled not only with some kind of ice cream with stuff in it, but that it was also filled with some kind of carbonated beverage.
Yes. He had made a GIANT float. In a mixing bowl.
I ate some of it (he ate most of it). That was the start of our strange relationship with ice cream.
I should also tell you that Brett can eat ice cream faster than any one else I have ever met. An example would be the night we were watching CSI and he sat down with a pint of Ben and Jerry's as it started. The way CSI works is there is an opening segment, usually between 2 and 3 minutes, and then the credits. Then there are commercials, and then the show actually starts. In the time between the beginning of the opening segment and the time the show actually started, he had FINISHED THE ENTIRE PINT OF ICE CREAM.
The entire. Freaking. Pint. It's kind of sickening, really, when you think about how much fat is in one of those. But I digress.
Last night, I decided to take some photos to document Brett's ice cream habit. The concoction pictured here is one very similar to the one he brought into his room that night oh-so-long-ago. It's just in a smaller mixing bowl this time since the larger mixing bowl was dirty. Here he is, in the beginning, using a mixing spoon (with the mixing bowl) to scoop the ice cream out of the carton. Notice the nice, healthy array of fruit behind him. Does he choose to have a moderate amount of ice cream, and then maybe a banana to satisfy his sweet tooth? Of course not. He eats half a carton of Breyer's Rocky Road and a liter of Coke instead.
Which brings me to my next photo. Notice how much of the carton of ice cream is gone. I should point out that the carton was FULL when he started scooping -- rather, shoveling ice cream from the carton -- for this sugary creation. I mean, how can he eat that much and not feel totally sick? This is the man who is so picky about his food that he won't even eat Kraft cheese because he says anything Kraft is bad. And the man who turns up his nose at my enjoyment of pasta with butter and garlic, becuase, "It's gross to eat pasta with oil on it." Well, I think it's gross to eat that ice cream and coke combination...so why don't we just call it even? He can eat his ice cream-coke-sugar high, and I'll eat my fattening pasta dish, and we'll be good.
Here is the finished product. Note that the bowl is nearly overflowing with coke and ice cream. After he made the giant float, he carried it very carefully into the computer room to sit back and enjoy one of his other addictions while he ate his ice cream. That addiction is mopeds, and specifically, moped related websites. If you look closely at the next photo, you might be able to see the moped engine on the screen behind him. Alas. I guess an addiction to ice cream and mopeds isn't too terrible, right? At least it's not something icky like porn or hunting. I mean, I like mopeds and ice cream, too...just not as much as Brett does, I guess.
Really, though, I wish sometimes that I were more passionate about things than I am, that I were more like him in that respect. Because, seriously? What is it I'm passionate about like he's passionate about mopeds and ice cream? Nothing much. Maybe reading...I do read a lot. But is reading really all that great to be passionate about? I don't even read good books very often. (Good meaning thoughtful or intelligent) I suppose I should take Brett's passions as a lesson...and find some of my own.
Still, even if I think it's kind of gross that he consumes more ice cream than I have ever known another human to consume at one time, I have to admit, he's pretty dang adorable while he's doing it.