How I Became the Popsicle Girl

Taking the long way home on my daily stroll so as not to feel rushed to eat my daily DQ Blizzard, I noticed ahead of me a few young chaps who I often notice loitering around my neighborhood. Fiercely consuming my ice cream treat, I almost didn’t notice the boys’ conversation: “Isn’t that the popsicle lady?” I looked up and saw that they were referring to me. “Hey! Aren’t you the popsicle girl?”

I am indeed the Popsicle Girl. And what follows is the story of my namesake…

A few weeks ago I attempted to attend two #tweetea gatherings in one night. During my commute from one to the other, I stopped off at home to feed my dog and my self. Since there’s never anything good to eat at my house, I grabbed a popsicle and headed out the door.

While speeding to #tweetea, scarfing my popsicle and checking my email, I made sure to periodically look up to see if my car was still in the right lane (on the road, whatever). During one of these “safety checks” I noticed the neighbor boy walking along the side of the road, noticing me. We acknowledged each other, thug style.

Continuing on my way, I opened an email that contained some particularly arousing verbiage and immediately my new Lelo Gigi vibrator came to mind. With cinematic squeal, I pulled a u-turn and headed home for a quickie. After a most glorious microwaved orgasm, I grabbed a popsicle and headed out the door. Again.

As I made my way to the first #tweetea for the second time, life was good. I jammed some tunes, got down on my popsicle, and let the breeze do that magical thing that breezes do. At a red light, I took time to appreciate the happy details of life: a youthful couple walking their dog, kids drinking Slurpees at 7-11, the scary laughing teenagers outside of the house with the boarded-up front door, and hey–there was the neighborhood boy again! Roadside and pedestrian, he was staring at me and laughing.

“Another one?” he asked. I smiled shamelessly and raised my popsicle, thug style.

And that’s how I became known as the Popsicle Girl.

  • hadi

    felicitations on the new gig! and congrats too on writing the first sentence i’ve ever seen with the phrase, “raised my popsicle, thug style.”

    i say it’s a sure sign you’re cool if you get a nickname in the neighbourhood.

    • Boss Fader

      Thank you, Hadi, for introducing me to a most fellatious way to say, “congratulations!”

  • Brian

    Getting paid to blank your blank is blanking awesome. As long as you’re getting paid in gum.

    • Boss Fader

      As long as the gum I’m getting paid with has a juicy hundred-dollar-bill-filled center, Arsen, I’ll blank until my blank runs blank.

  • David Benjamin

    So, from now on should I refer to you as the popsicle girl? There are so many directions to take this but for now I’ll keep it clean.

    Congrats on the new gig although I’m still not sure what you’ll be doing. :)

  • Boss Fader

    Thanks for the well-wishing! I think as far as nicknames go, my #tweetea fam might better know me as the “malt girl” or “milkshake girl” (but please–never ever “slider girl” or “hamburgirl”). And as for Paris Intimates…I’m going to leave the description of my duties as a Mad Lib mystery…