I guess it's not ALWAYS time to make the donuts...

OK, so being that my brother and I usually only spend time together during the week at dinner time, and given the fact that we are both fat bastards, our trips to the center of the fast food universe (a.k.a. Shirley, NY) are often followed up by my brother looking to score some Baskin Robbins mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Regardless of the temperature outside. It's ten degrees below zero? Let's get ice cream. Penguins just moved into the neighborhood? Let's get ice cream. Oxygen is spontaneously solidifying? Let's get ice cream.

So of course, I agree. Not for myself, mind you. I rarely touch the stuff when it's cold outside. But this Baskin Robbins is fused to the inside of a Dunkin Donuts like Kuato in Total Recall. So I like to grab a dozen donuts to snack on for the next few days/minutes. But the problem therein lies with the hour at which we arrive at the establishment. There is no such thing as fresh donuts at 7:45 PM. All the best ones are long gone.

Usually, my discussion with the clerk is such:

"I'd like a dozen donuts."

-mumbling and shuffling as the clerk constructs a box like David Copperfield, followed by a blank, acknowledgementless stare to indicate they are ready to take my order-

"I'd like two cinnamon... [looking around to see what they have left] no powdered, eh? Hmm... okay... I'll take two chocolate frosted... no, the ones without the dirt... okay... two pineapple filled... one sour cream and chives... a leak and potato cruller... one of the broccoli... one of those barbecued pork bear claws... one shaving cream eclair... how many does that leave?"

-Another mindless stare into the abyss of their wasted lives- "One."

"Okay... I guess... hmm... ah, just give me a plain."