Conquering the Vermonster

20 scoops of Ben & Jerry's ice cream. Oodles of syrup and sprinkles and bananas to make it go down smoothly. One big tub.

Oh, and ten erstwhile children who'd always dreamed of spending their hard-earned money on stupid shit like this when they were growing up.


Some of us had dinner before our 9 pm ice cream date; others didn't. Some of us (okay, me) went running first to stave off the guilt from consuming that much sugar in one sitting. All of us garnered quite a bit of attention from other customers or passers-by, I assume due not only to the massive tub on the table but also the fact that there were no children at our table.

Indeed, we were such adults about the matter that we had to swear before eating that none of us had any contagious diseases that we knew of. And then of course, the truly adult thing to do was to lo hei the Vermonster before we dug into it.


Maybe that's why for the rest of the evening, we were eating brown and white gloop of indistinguishable flavours. Would your next scoop yield pure chocolate (highly unlikely), or a piece of chocolate-covered banana (I'd forgotten how much I enjoy those), or something that looked like the promising whiteness of Cherry Garcia but turned out to be a mouthful of mint (ugh!)? You have to ask yourself (insert the Clint Eastwood voice that I can't do): Do you feel lucky?

I never found that coveted scoop of Cherry Garcia ...

By the time the store closed at 10.30, we were well and truly done.

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And some of us were already starting to feel a little queasy. It's not so much the quantity of ice cream we ate (20 scoops among ten adults doesn't amount to much), but that it was all stirred up with artificial sweetness layered upon further artificial sweetness, I think.

Of course, some people went on to have bacon-wrapped king prawns at Tango afterwards ...

I'm not eating ice cream for at least a month.

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