If you haven't yet checked out Blake Lively's lifestyle blog, Preserve.us, then you are missing something. Missing what exactly? A lot of adjectives, from what I've seen.
She had some interesting thoughts about ice cream, and so do I.
Sex on top of Sundaes
Sex on ice cream is an act of violent, sugary insurrection. So, when I build a sundae atop my bed, I create a land of strife and blood, a war-torn world of famine and death —an area of sweet danger where townsfolk tiptoe warily around Maraschino cherry bombs.
Retreating into a bunker made of marzipan, I long for the safety and the workaday problems of the world outside my milky battle zone. Handfuls of jimmies fall like shrapnel over the mountains of chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla ice creams. In a futile attempt to thwart an incoming spray of fudgy, molten syrup, I toss up a Pirouette drone. When that fails, I launch the pineapples and banana slices.
My defense mechanisms are no match for the approaching enemy. "Bring it on!" I shout. "I'm ready!"
I brace for impact, allowing my mind to escape to a place of innocence, a place where I bowl of ice cream once meant freedom and simplicity.
A place I like to call "home."
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