driving home last night:
moi: (à propos nothing*) i don't like ice cream cakes.
mr. monkey: oh yeah?
moi: i don't like ice cream much either.
mr. monkey: hm.
moi: ice cream cakes are made of ice cream.
mr. monkey: ah.
*ok, we had just driven past dairy queen with its pink advert for a valentine heart-shaped ice cream cake and i can't imagine anything worse... except maybe a dozen red long stemmed roses sent to my place of employment to trumpet my partner's love for me to the unwashed masses. gack.