so this post is about something odd that happened to me last week- its not as funny as it is what-the-fuck-ish.

so im in this ice cream place in harvard square with my mama and its my turn to order:
ice cream guy: what will you have today?
me: uhh oreo milkshake
guy: what kind of ice cream with that?
me: ill go vanilla.

so after a few minutes i get my milkshake and something is not right. tasted sourish and i look and see no oreos and it has an orangish tint. i go back to the counter and ask him if this is actually an oreo milkshake. his response was as follows:

“oh, i thought you said orangejuice milkshake.”

-i sat there for a few seconds wondering if he was kidding, though by the cock-smirk on his face i could tell he was serious. he eventually made me a par-at-best oreo milkshake, but clearly thats not the point of this story. first of all, what the fuck is an orange juice milkshake. secondly, who the fuck would order an orange juice milk shake. and third and most importantly, how often must an orange juice milkshake get ordered so that one would mistake an oreo request with that of orange juice granted this is a FUCKING ICE CREAM PARLOR. im out

-leon jacob mandler

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