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Venice FlyTrap: No, I REALLY Love Ice Cream


A blogumn by Kelly Kaboom

Beaches are fun, aren’t they? One day spent soaking up some sun by the ocean can wipe away a weeks worth of cubicle-induced stress. A visit to the beach is also a great way to fill those endless hours spent with out-of-town visitors.

A few years back I had a gentleman caller come in for a weekend. He was from Arizona, the land of red rock desert and endless strip malls. This being his first time in LA, he was eager to see the sites. I suggested we go frolic outside my bedroom in the cool waters of the Pacific Ocean. At the time I was living in the valley, so with swim suits on and a picnic basket in hand, we jumped in the car and headed toward Venice.

Although open alcohol isn’t allowed on Venice Beach, as a tax payer I feel that I have a right to sit back in the sand, sip some whiskey and watch the waves rollin. So along the way we stopped for a couple bottles of coke to pour a little(or alot) Jimmy B. into.

Once there I parked a few blocks from the beach and we headed off for some fun in the sun. As we frollicked in the sun, sand and surf we munched on our goodies and drained our bottles of whiskey. With the alcohol taking over we headed for a stroll down the boardwalk.

Drunk, dehydrated and sun-burned, I spied the only medicine I needed; hand scooped ice cream!

My gentleman caller was good enough to buy me two scoops on a cone, none of that cup crap, sugar cones only please. Gleefully I flip-flopped my way toward the door and the single, small step down to the boardwalk. It was that step, that one little step that put an end to my beachy fun day. Of course the flip-flops, whiskey, endless sun and my natural clumsiness didn’t help much either. Stepping down I placed all my weight on the side of my foot which immediately rolled under. Hearing bones break as I tumbled to the ground i stuck my right arm out as high and straight as I could.


Because that’s the hand that I had my ice cream cone in, silly. Sure I broke a few bones in my foot, cut open the right side of my body and made a fool of myself in front of hundreds of people; whatever doesn’t matter. I saved my ice cream cone!

Leaning on my tall gentleman caller’s arm I hobbled back to the car. All the while calmly licking those two scoops savoring the taste of chocolate and mint sliding down my throat.