Let’s do this.

It’s time to break down the top six.

6. The Creamy Zebra

I’m talking about that soft rectangle ice cream sandwich melded into the wall of sinusoidal ice shavings near the bottom of your corner store freezer. Push your paws between popsicles and pre-wraps to grab the sticky surprise from the frozen tundra. Next, drop a couple dollars on the counter before slowly undressing the Wax Paper Tuxedo to reveal your naked bounty: jet-black dimpled cookies melted right onto a factory-chopped rectangle of vanilla ice cream that offers one entirely soft consistency with zero texture variation.

5. Illegally Sized Oreos

Painstakingly twist apart as many Oreos as you can, slow-peel the sugary goop off of each one, and then rebuild it into a majestic Oreo full of as much of the white stuff as possible for the ultimate sugar to cookie ratio.

4. The Donut

This is where a freshly fried glazed donut has been sawed in half and stuffed with ice cream, maybe some chocolate, maybe some cinnamon sugar. Yes, it’s an endangered species, but with recent carnival conservation efforts, the donut sandwich is making a comeback. My friend Gillian recently told me about one she ate at a local fair: “It was the hottest, freshest donut,” she began, “and the coldest, creamiest vanilla ice cream.” Her eyes glistened like a honey cruller as she gazed off into the distance. I could tell the donut affected her, moved her in some small way.

3. The Wild Zebra

This is where you pull off the same black-and-white ice-cream sandwich as The Creamy Zebra except it’s made to order at your own house. You buy crunchy cookies. You scoop fresh ice cream. You put them together. It's all you! None of this store bought garbage. It's the difference between seeing a zebra in the zoo and seeing a zebra on the African plains. The zebras may look the same but they taste completely different. That’s not what I mean. Not tastes like you’re eating zebras from the zoo and you’re also like a zebra poacher who shoots and eats zebras in the Serengeti and you know, those poached wild zebras with real developed running muscles and big swooshing tails, yum yum, they taste way better than lazy, diseased, fat old zebras from the zoo who sit around in the wrong climate for twenty years eating hay bales and candy wrappers. I’m not saying that! I didn't shoot any zebras. Nor did you! Nor should you, I mean. I don’t know anything about zebras. What I do know is you should make your own ice cream sandwiches in your own backyard and then never lazily compare them to something they do not resemble in any way at all other than they happen to have the same colors. Clearly.

2. Cake Sandwich

There’s a local burger stand near my house that’s only open in the summer due to their lack of roof. But, when they’re open, it’s a special place, because they have rows of picnic tables, a big bonfire, bean bag tosses, a delicious smoky smell, and servers running around holding burgers, dogs, and fries. And when you’re done they always say: “Would you like an ice cream sandwich?” And you say yes, of course, because hashtag yolo. Then they say “Do you want chocolate chocolate, chocolate vanilla, or vanilla vanilla?” And you pick one without fully getting that they’re about to bring you a giant rectangle of (chocolate or vanilla) frozen birthday cake, sliced across the gut, with a perfect rectangle of (chocolate or vanilla) ice cream gently placed inside like some sort of frozen child tucked into sugary sheets. Everyone’s eyes pop when the masterpiece is set down on the checkered tablecloth and then afterwards the bean bag toss goes into a sort of riled and frenzied triple overtime due to blood glucose levels.

1. The Crazy

This is the one you make at three in the morning in the giggle-till-you-pee-your-pajamas stage of the sleepover. Somebody gets a craving after the Karate Kid marathon but the pizza boxes are just full of crusts and limp green peppers so while your parents sleep upstairs you all slip out of your sleeping bags, pound up the basement steps, flick on the kitchen lights, and pull the waffle iron out of the pantry. Batter splatters, giggles amplify, and a couple burnt forearms later you’re peeling waffle after waffle from the machine. But it doesn’t stop there! Someone sizzles up bacon, maple syrup glug-glugs, and your host finds a leftover stash of Halloween candy. An hour later you’re back into sleeping bags with all your friends leaning around one plate tearing apart a sloppy sandwich full of ice cream, bacon, shaved coconut, and gummy bears. It’s a primal savannah kill short on majesty and long on memories.

Now!

These are just a few dessert sandwich possibilities.

We have come so far but the future is bright, my friends.

One day soon we will achieve the Dessert Sandwich Singularity where combinations merge together seamlessly and we can’t even remember which desserts were ever eaten separately.

Do not be afraid of this progress. Do not be worried.

While there may be job losses at the ice cream parlor or The Cheesecake Factory the truth is our economy is robust and entirely new roles and organizations will be created such as the ice cream cheesecake parlor and The Cheesecake Cold Cut Factory.

Yes, the future will be magnificent.

The future will be glorious.

And we all know it will be truly

AWESOME!

I wrote 1000 Awesome Things from 2008 – 2012 which turned into four books. This is #1002 of The Next 1000.

Did you used to get your cheeks pinched?

When I was a kid Poona Auntie pinched my cheeks at family gatherings on the reg. And, as if the death grip on my ruby-reds wasn’t enough, she always accompanied it with some classic Indian head wobbles and lines like “Why don’t you ever visit me, beta gee? Why has it been so long? Why don’t you ever phone your Poona Auntie?”

Guilt, pain, shame, and a quick feeling of being a bad nephew.

I guess it never struck me to take a break from fighting hammer brothers in my basement to phone up a distant aunt and start gabbing like we were sitting under permers at the beauty salon.

And what would have happened if I really did call up the aunt whose only conversation topic was how I didn’t call her? Would we have suddenly started swapping vindaloo recipes or debated the latest Bollywood star turn? Or would we have simply inched along a step to discussing how I never came to visit?

Much later on in life I owned a sandwich shop and sometimes had a customer walk in the door who I hadn’t seen in a little while.

What did I say to them? “Hey, where have you been? Why don’t you ever visit your favorite sandwich shop anymore?”

I started noticing when I did that they’d quickly flash an apologetic smile, make a quick Mesquite Chicken order, and then disappear forever.

I’d hear the door ding and could almost see the swirling black cloud of shame hovering over them as they stepped inside their dented Honda Civic and drove straight out of my life.

It took a long time to realize the shame was because of me.

And that it was undeserved.

I had somehow grown into the Poona Auntie of Sandwiches.

Over time, I started to understand why they never came back. It was the same reason I never called my aunt.

Who can handle that kind of guilt?

Much easier to disappear completely.

Shame clouds came in those days because I wasn’t confident.

“I’m a non-caller, I’m a bad nephew, I’m not holding up my end of the relationship.”

Or maybe the snow globe lives we live in just had a shake and I didn’t realize that was okay, that was normal, that neither person was to blame.

Because guilt tripping is a form of emotional lashing out.

Research from the University of Auckland and the University of New Hampshire found that people who felt more hurt when receiving criticism from partners were more likely to respond dramatically in order to make their partner feel guilty. The more their feelings were hurt, the more guilt their partners experienced.

When you say, “I know we haven’t seen each other in a while,” you’re essentially saying, “and it’s all your fault.”

But we’re forgetting we all live in a snow globe.

We shake up, we shake down, we fly sideways, we get around. Sometimes the shakes send us flying. And that doesn’t mean we did anything wrong. We have to grow to appreciate what we had and what we have. We have to learn to let go a little more of what could or should be.

Moments, days, this year, right here.

Tomorrows are never guaranteed so no need to spray them with Poona Auntie sayings or shake shame clouds over people when all you really mean to say is:

“I’m so glad to see you.”

“I feel lucky we got this.”

“Thanks for being in my life.”

“And thank you for being

AWESOME!

I wrote 1000 Awesome Things from 2008 – 2012 which turned into four books. This is my first new one online since then.

#1002 Any dessert in sandwich form