Just in time for us to officially give up on our dreams of the perfect summer bod, New York is bringing us the Museum of Ice Cream, which is pretty much like Willy Wonka’s factory, but it’s real and there’s ice cream instead of weird candy that makes you fat and blue. God, I love Manhattan.
I literally can’t even (contain my excitement). One, who doesn’t love ice cream? Shit is tasty and keeps me from dying in this heat. Two, my Instagram is about explode thanks to this. Some of the most exciting exhibits (displays? idk) include shit like an ice cream sandwich swing, a chocolate room, balloons you can eat and some Tinder-ish app that matches you with your perfect flavor. If I don’t pair with Lemon Cake Halo Top, it’s wrong, but whatever. It’s still cool AF.
The best thing the museum has, though, is a life-size pool filled with fake sprinkles that you can dive in and swim around in and shit. Sounds kind of unsanitary, but fucking YOLO. This Instagram perfectly captures my opinions on the matter, as well as my goals and aspirations:
But good luck getting in, because it’s already sold out and it’s only open for like a month, which sucks, but also makes it even better when my ass gets in. Sounds like this shit is about to be the next Hamilton. May the odds be ever in your favor, betches.