Museum of Ice Cream: A preface by your lovely author

“You haven’t updated your blog ever since you started going out with your boyfriend. Just saying.” -Marti

Ouch. After my own mother slandered my good name over tapas last week, I trudged up this website’s stats and was straight shooketh upon the realization that:

1) It’s been a solid four months since I’ve delighted the world with my bitchy commentary
2) We’re halfway through 2017
3) We’re halfway through 2017 and still haven’t died via North Korean missile strike. Now there’s a pleasant surprise!

Normally, I wouldn’t publicly disclose my relationship status because, as I’ve gently reminded said boyfriend every time he’s requested an entry devoted to himself (“Yeah, because that definitely seems like something I would do…”), it’s not good for the Arianna Adams™ brand.

Inevitably, my content would morph into something far less morally shameful. People want to read about the blunders of humanity, not how I hibernated over the weekend to consume my weight in Cool Ranch Doritos – which is what happens when you’re with someone who’s contractually obligated to adore you unconditionally*. Why else would all of those Housewives shows be such a self-esteem boost so popular? Plus, if you combed through this blog closely enough, I’m sure you would stumble upon at least 10 previous instances where I declared something to the degree of: “I don’t do relationships,” “Love is a sham,” and “Everyone dies alone.”

In summation, I don’t know who I am anymore. So why broadcast this? Because, against my better and more egocentric judgment, I’m allowing my boyfriend – whom we’ll call William, since that’s his name – his 15 minutes of fame penning a guest entry. Originally, I was outraged by the mere suggestion, given it was clearly a thinly-veiled ploy to slowly but surely overtake “The Art of Being Basic.” But then I set my stubbornness aside for a lengthy five minutes and skimmed his critique of the Museum of Ice Cream… and, well, the relentless snark and cynicism couldn’t help but remind me of a young Arianna Adams™. It was touching, really.

So, once I post this, I’ll be showcasing his entry to all 5 of my readers. Please note that I cannot, in good conscience, fully co-sign its content – seeing as I’m depicted in a rather superficial light that dear William (half-heartedly) denies. You can be the ultimate judge on the matter. All I’ll say is that, when reviewing his work, my attention was immediately drawn to the glaring absence of praise and flattery. There’s a sentence that references “Arianna taking a Snapchat selfie,” so I suggested a subtle revision to “the woman of my dreams, Arianna, whose outer beauty is only rivaled by her kind and gentle spirit, took a Snapchat selfie – in which was an inevitably ironic manner, as she personifies the very antithesis of superficiality.”** Oddly enough, my input was declined.

Anyway, I don’t feel compelled to tack on my perspective of the Museum of Ice Cream because my views are largely similar. I’d be the first to agree that it was nothing more than a glorified Instagram shoot. But the difference between me and William is that 1) free food samples are enough to win me over and 2) him instantly despising it only made me enjoy it more. I had a great time!

Spotted: me living my best life

So if you’re curious for an assessment on the latest and most basic attraction Los Angeles has to offer, go ahead and check out what he had to say. For the full effect, I recommend reading it in his particularly snobby English accent. Cheers!

*I’m totally kidding, my life is just as ratchet as it’s always been.
**The selfie in question. Undeniably thought-provoking.