One of my favorite things about living in the ghetto is that regardless of day or type of weather, you can always find an ice cream truck driving down the street. The ice cream truck comes EVERY SINGLE DAY. Every day. Seriously. The first time I heard the truck, I got so excited that I locked myself out of my house. Now, when I hear the 'do your ears hang low...' song, I generally wish I could slam my head in the sliding door of the ice cream truck.
Sometimes though, it gets evern ghetto-er and the truck doesn't come, but don't you worry, the people in the ghetto still need their ice cream...they hire an ice cream bike. Same concept, just with a bike...it has a little cooler trailer behind it. Not as much music, but I am pretty sure he has a horn.
I mean, I like ice cream as much as the next guy, but how many popsicles in the shape of Mickey's head can you really eat in a week? If you asked the people on my street, they would say at least 7.
Viva la ice cream truck.