Last night I was a little wound up from a crappy work day and then commute (DAMN YOU MARINERS), so after all the critter chores were done and I was down for some quality backyard time with the girls, the first thing I heard as I came outside was the infernal ice cream truck. A while back, a friend from work came over for drinks and when she heard it, she was startled and delighted: Is that an ice cream truck! She found it charming, which I might have, had I not heard Turkey in the Motherfucking Straw for the nine millionth time. So, it's an irritation, but it's also a sound of summer and as such, tolerated as best as I can. It's best customers are the family living two houses down. I have no idea who exactly lives there, as it seems to be a never ending extended family, and they all loves their ice cream. The problem being while all 500 of them are all 'what do you want' 'oh, wait, lemme think', the ice cream truck is idling with that infernal tune going ad nauseum at a pretty high volume. So, after about 10 minutes of this shit, off I go. If you're going to idle here, could you please turn the music down, I say, nicely enough. The five or so standing at the truck, and the truck driver, looked at me with a collective bovine expression (sorry, cows) of flat, deliberate incomprehension. And it just got worse from there. It harshed my mellow considerably and it was awhile before I managed to just relax, not worry about them employing one of their gangbanger friends to murder me in my sleep and just enjoy the evening, now blessedly quiet.