This burst of sunshine and the greenhouse effect of my office window had me out on the streets trowelling for frozen treats today.
Remembering my promise to rworange check out The Dog Out, I headed over. I had the following conversation with the English-limited cashier:
Me: Hi, I heard you sell frozen custard.
Her: Yes, it's on the menu.
Me: (I look at the menu and see nothing that says frozen custard, but it's hot and I'm kind of not focusing.) Um, okay, I'll take one to go.
Her: That's it?
Me: Yeah, thanks. Just a small one.
Her: You just want fries?
Me: No no no, frozen custard.
Her: (stares at me like I've just asked for a chinchilla on a plate, then looks at her co-worker).
Co-worker: What did you want?
Me: Do you have anything frozen? Like ice cream?
Me: Thanks, bye.
They must have thought I was some kind of retard. Oh well, not every chow experience can be a slam dunk. I enjoyed my strawberry Good Humor bar just fine.
Sigh. If anyone has better luck, please let us know!
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