Please Go Away Ice Cream Man

Spring is quickly approaching Brooklyn and I can tell, not because of the beautiful weather or the scantily clad teenagers or the constant jet stream of water frothing out of fire hydrants (alright, so that hasn't happened yet), but because of the ice cream man that has chosen his resting station outside of my apartment's living room so it's impossible to enjoy watching documentaries on furniture... or beer.

It's a good time.



When I was a kid I always loved the jolly sound of the ice cream truck as it crept down the street, being sure to catch all the kids' eardrum as it glided through the neighborhood. I remember yelling. I distinctly remember yelling, "Mom, I want ice cream," in the most obnoxious voice I could muster, an octave reserved for young people in times of "need." Usually, I would be answered with an emphatic no and be sent on my merry way to continue playing in the backyard or worse- to do homework, but sometimes, sometimes my mother would cave and I would be allowed a frozen treat and victory was mine. Slipping the ice cream man $1.50 in exchange for a Chocolate Eclair, I would sing a long with the music and even do a little happy dance.

I may have even high fived the ice cream dude on one occasion. Now, however, I would like to close my fingers around my palm and give this current ice cream monster a punch in the face. Never have I dreaded those musical bars of insanity until I moved to Brooklyn and wherever I live an ice cream truck follows.

Not only follows, but stops and waits all the while playing the music that is irritating enough to make you want wish age-old familiar songs were banned. Then, I could call the police and they wouldn't laugh at me, telling me to simply, "Get over it."
I will not! I will not get over it and ignore the hold it has on me. The ice cream truck music-of-fury unleashes an anger inside of me I'm not sure I can just, "get over." Ok. So, I've had to get over it or my life would be at a defeated standstill, but seriously?! Why can't I call in a noise complaint at 6 PM?! Right?! No, no that's not right. Sigh. Well, maybe I'll just get ear plugs or something...

[Upon my search to find an appropriate video to place here, I saw this: icecreamsongs.com. A guaranteed amalgamation of every children's song that has existed and ones that are unfamiliar but possibly, nay, definitely worse than anything you've ever heard. Get your ear drums ready to ache for tortuous sounds of screams and nails against the chalkboard instead of those happy, mind-numbing tunes. Nothing can top the musical disasters on that site. You're welcome.]


I've got to break free.








I'm out.