I heart 7-11

I love convenience stores.

First of all, they remind me of my childhood. Every week during the summer, my mom would take my brother and me to a convenience store up the street, and we were allowed to pick out one treat. (If the latest issue of Amethyst, Princess of Gemworld, was out, I'd get that, and I usually managed to coax a couple of quarters out of Mom for the Q*Bert machine in the corner, too.) Then we'd go home and have "Quiet Time", during which my brother and I were sent to our respective rooms for two hours. We could do anything we wanted as long as it was quiet, and as long as we stayed in our rooms (exceptions were made for the bathroom, of course). Now that I'm older, I realize that my mom was probably using this blessed free time to take a much-deserved nap.

Secondly, where else can you buy condoms, beer, batteries, candy, ice cream, a hot dog, magazines, "energy pills" and jumper cables under one roof?

Anyway, tonight I ventured out into the beautifully balmy night on a mission to buy Diet Dr. Pepper.

< tangent >

When I was in Japan last year, after our tour group had disbanded for the night, I stopped in the 7-11 down the block from our hotel for a bento and a Coke. It smelled exactly like every other 7-11 I've ever visited. Is it Slurpee mix? If you know, please advise.

< /tangent >

I honestly intended to buy my Diet Dr. Pepper and leave, but my stomach was growling, and ice cream sounded like just the thing on a warm June night. I stepped over to the cooler and surveyed the treats within.

Mmmm...Chipwich? Dibs? Haagen-Dazs vanilla almond bar? Or maybe a HOLY CHRISTBALLS WHAT'S THAT?

With trembling hands, I pushed the cooler open and grabbed...

...a Cadbury Creme Egg drumstick.

The wrapper said, "Vanilla ice cream with a fondant creme center dipped in Cadbury chocolatey coating", but it might as well have said, "Cadbury creme egg + ice cream = damp panties".

Fling! Into the basket with you.

Remembering my mission, I grabbed a 12-pack of Diet Dr. Pepper and headed towards the register. The cashier had just rung me up when, to my astonishment, I saw something in the magazine rack that I'd been dying to get my hands on: Shock, the brand-new, ultra-cheap ($1.99!) schlocky rag that's already made the news, both for its lowbrow content and because they're getting sued by a photographer for using one of his Iraq photos on the cover, allegedly without permission.

"I need this too," I said breathlessly, tossing it onto the counter.

As soon as I got home, I unwrapped the Cadbury Creme Egg drumstick and, to my dismay, found that it was encased in a thick layer of ice. Apparently not a big seller. I picked the ice off as best I could and took a bite.

Hmmm...not bad. The ice cream wasn't the best quality, and the chocolate was a bit thin, but that fondant center was a killer, and they had the obligatory chocolate plug in the bottom of the cone. As it stands, it gets a solid B, but if I had a fresher one, the grade could potentially go up to an A.

As for Shock, I'll open it up at random and see what we're dealing with here.

Page 19: A picture of an ultra-hairy Val Kilmer licking Paris Hilton's lower lip. Ewww!

Page 23: Celebrities flipping the bird! That's not very Christian of you, Jessica Simpson.

Page 74: Frickin’ NASTY. My ice cream is about to make a repeat appearance.

Page 83: HOLY SHIT IT'S THE GODDESS BUNNY!

Okay, it's utter trash, but I have a headache, and I think my current novel will only make it worse (Black Swan Green by David Mitchell; it's excellent, but very British, and it's taking me forever to read because I have to figure out the slang and cultural references from context, and when that doesn't work, I have to Google it), so I'm going to pop a couple of Tylenol PM and climb into bed and read Shock.

Think I'll paperclip pages 74-75 together first, though. I don't need to be dreaming about that shit, thanks.