Froyo? Ohhh, no!

One of the great things about New England is its abundance of little ice creameries...cute little stands with everything you could ever want. For dessert anyway. They don't sell Edward Cullens or Christian Greys, but they should. Can we talk about the word "creamie," though? It's descriptive, sure, but it sounds so, well, dirty coming out of my mouth. Creeeeamie. Creeeamiiiiie. Ewww. Let's move on, shall we? You walk away from these little gems satisfied, chocolate covered, and bloated from all the dairy. It is one of life's greatest offerings. This is one of my favorite places to partake in such naughtiness...the Northfield Creamie in Northfield, Massachusetts.

My ever-expanding rump is begging me to stop devouring a treat every time I pass, but alas, I cannot. The best part? They have old school frozen yogurt like I used to get as a kid. While froyo bars seem to be all the rage right now, they are lacking the thick, rich froyo of my youth. I can't get enough. I definitely do not need to be consuming rich dairy products at all, but I am pretty picky about when and where I'll eat it. That's what I tell myself, and now you, anyway.

Today's flavor? Tart cranberry froyo. Sinful.

Please, you must stop. Can't you feel your ass expanding and your glucose levels surging? I can't. It is just too lovely. Nom nom nom...

If I had the motivation or cash flow, I'd reopen a TCBY franchise in every town in America. Who am I kidding? That is never going to happen. That kind of cash flow would definitely go toward buying a llama farm. I love llamas. Or miniature ponies. They're super cute. No, definitely llamas. Or alpacas, their underrated cousins. I've really lost my way here. My point is this: a) I'm rallying to bring back real froyo, b) April through September this is my 'hood, and c) llamas are super cute. Except for all the spitting.