The Gary Larson version for people who don't feel like reading this whole thing:
Ice cream is good, and people are weird.
So I got Sweet DW to go out with me last night in the snow, and it was late enough that we both felt justified in looking like bums. (Nothing like two 25-year-old women in Provo wearing scrubs and yoga pants to say, "we have no intention of leaving this town in any state but single!") We went to Kinko's, where we talked to this girl in our ward who works there and I found myself a bit into the Kinko's guy. Got some ice cream at Ben & Jerry's, where I discovered the goodness of Oatmeal Cookie Crunch, or something like that. It's just really really good; I had them hand-pack a pint for me (which will take me at least a month to eat - how do you people eat ice cream so fast?). If you've never tried it, do yourself a favor. It's yummy.
Then, on our way home, Sweet DW and I stopped at the ol' Wendy's drive-thru, where we decided that that's probably the fast-food place we've gone to the most since we got to school, due to proximity and its less-nasty status, because we sure haven't been going there for there for the last eight years for the service. At the second window, I asked the Wendy's chick for some ketchup, and she asked me something about five dollars. I kind of assumed she didn't speak English, because whatever was coming out of her mouth made absolutely NO sense, so after repeating, "I need KETCHUP" really slowly, she made her joke again, which was something about holding the ketchup ransom for $5. I think. I dunno. I've decided that people like that ought to be forced to an open-mike night every so often so they can get all of their horrible humor out on each other and leave the rest of us alone. Even now, as I think about it 19 hours later... weirdness.
