I'm in a K-hole.

No ya crackhead, not the K-hole of my late teens/early twenties where the world turns green and the E gets stronger. This is the K-hole of my adult life involving me, my couch, and a bunch of empty Special K cereal bar wrappers on my living room floor. I knew I shouldn't have bought a box!! (Psst, by a "bunch" I mean "two". Stop judging me.)

I had a lovely weekend catching up with half my Petes, eating some good homemade meals (thanks Jules and Spags!), taking pics, and seeing Transformers. Like I wrote before, I didn't really remember the cartoon too much, but man that did not stop me from getting all warm and fuzzy inside. I cheered the first time someone said "more than meets the eye", laughed at all the comic references, and nearly cried when "Bumblebee" and "Bonecrusher" were introduced. Geek!

So this weekend I've come to terms with something. I've been in denial about this for quite awhile, but it's time to come clean.

I am addicted to soft cone ice-cream. Picture this, Astoria 2007:

I'm strolling down Steinway to get some Baskin Robbins.

I see gross men sitting in front of Baskin Robbins.

I reluctantly walk past Baskin Robbins.

I spot an ice cream truck half a block away.

I begin to slightly skip towards ice cream truck with big cheesy smile.

I then get so excited that I start to speed walk towards ice cream truck with money in hand.

I then get about 5 feet from ice cream truck before realizing it was not actually an ice cream truck, but in fact a Con Ed truck.

I stop, put head down (cue Peanuts music), and go home with an ice-cream monkey on my back.

There was no denying the addiction after that. I need help...or at least a Mary's Dairy in the neighborhood so I don't continue to expand. Their ice-cream is low in calories and high in deliciousness.