Lactose Intolerance and Cold Stone Creamery

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September 19, 2013 by Manny Wordsmith

There have been times where I’ve walked past a Cold Stone Creamery and wondered what it would be like to actually order something large, tasty and ridiculous.


Instead, I just dream.

I dream I’m sitting at a large antique wooden table with a giant white napkin stuffed in my shirt. I’m nervous, but I can smell chocolate and caramel, even though I can’t see any treats. This calms me down like Sunday evenings when I was a kid and my mom would do some of her most fiercest baking. I feel even more relaxed when I start to hear a bit of Afro-Cuban Jazz coming from behind me. Dizzy Gillespie, I think. I don’t know where I am, but I’m not even really scared. The time wanes on, and I don’t see anyone or anything. I think about leaving, or at least tracking down the sweet smells.

Before a decision can be made, actress Eva Mendes comes out dressed like Lucille Ball from that famous I Love Lucy “Cake Factory” episode.


She hands me two oversized spoons and kisses me on the cheek and asks, “Are you ready Papi?”

So I say yes…obviously.

Then a bunch of women with strip-club-cut, slutty waitress outfits come out holding bowls and bowls of different ice cream combinations. One is holding a bowl of chopped up Butterfingers swirled around Oatmeal Cookie Batter ice cream, while another is holding a bowl of Cotton Candy ice cream sprinkled with gummy bears. The combinations seem endless. I pick the bowl of Raspberry Ice Cream with M&M’s and rainbow sprinkles. I prepare to dig in, but pop singer Katy Perry interrupts, busting in on a unicorn and singing her song “Fireworks”, while the original cast of “Saved by the Bell” shoot off bazookas filled with bits of Bazooka gum, sprinkles and Skittles.

After the spectacle, I indulge and scrape the bottom of every bowl. Then my dream fast-forwards two hours ahead, where I’m sitting back and watching old episodes of “Frasier”. And you know what happens? NOTHING! And you know why? Because I’m not lactose intolerant in my dream! I throw my fist up and continue watching as Daphne spreads her cheeky optimism and Frasier continues to pretend he really doesn’t love her.

A boy can only dream.

In reality, just being inside that dining room and smelling those treats would’ve corroded the inside of my stomach lining. No tablets or pills would’ve been able to save me. Till this dream comes true, till I’m able to fully cure this wretched disease that plagues me, I will just enjoy Sorbet…lots and lots of Sorbet.


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