Pure fuckin’ bliss, let me tell ya.
I received a text from a colleague a week prior asking if I’d like to go to the Museum of Ice Cream.
Um, is that even a question?
What kind of person am I to turn such an invite down?
I won’t bore you with a play by play of my thought process of what I’m gonna wear, the ice cream I was going to eat, and where to take my million photos.
The museum definitely lives up to its hype — every section was hella Instagrammable.
The only downside to the museum was that certain parts were fenced off, so taking photos was a little challenging. The popsicles that looked like they were stuck on walls untouchable and the sprinkle pool also had a time limit. I think if I bought my tickets, I would be a little frustrated with all the rules. Like, excuse me, I bought these expensive ass tickets, don’t tell me what to do (but I didn’t).
Don’t forget to get your very last ice cream sandwich when you hit the gift shop! We ALMOST forgot until we saw people gawking at a stand. You were obviously given several treats throughout the experience, but the last ice cream sandwich was one of my favorites, hands down.
They are sold out in LA, but will be moving to San Francisco so be on the lookout!