Jennifer Aniston, An Ice Cream Sandwich, & Me: A Fictional Tale

When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. When Jennifer Aniston hands you a partially eaten ice cream sandwich, you thank the universe for this gift. A source tells E! News that while dining at NYC restaurant Omar's La Ranita on Tuesday, actress Jennifer Aniston offered up part of her dessert to the diners seated at the table next to hers. According to E!’s source, the restaurant gave Aniston (an Omar's regular) an ice cream sandwich at the end of her meal, but she “was unable to finish” the confection. So, what did she do? E!’s source says Aniston opted to “share the dessert with three guests sitting behind her."

Wow, talk about being at the right place at the right time. Could you even imagine how magical it would be to be one of the three individuals who were fortunate enough to grub these leftovers? Wow wow wow.

I’m always up for a challenge, so I am going to attempt to imagine what it would be like if Jennifer Effin' Aniston was like, "Hey, want the rest of my ice cream sandwich?" and gave me the rest of her ice cream sandwich.

Jennifer Aniston, An Ice Cream Sandwich, & Me: A Fictional Tale

It’d been a long Tuesday, but things were looking up: I was meeting two of my best friends at Omar’s La Ranita for dinner. I’d never eaten there before, but I’d heard great things. I was very excited to try the truffled lobster because 1) I love truffled anything and 2) I love lobster. Sorry, short ribs, but truffled lobster won this round. Truffled lobster wiped the floor with you.

Moments after we were seated, we ordered appetizers. All three of us were veering into hangry territory, so we didn’t want to waste any time. As we dug into our second order of burrata, a hush fell over the restaurant. Curious as to what caused everyone to shut up at the same time, all three of us looked around the dining room for a witch casting silence spells. But it wasn't a witch; It was a celebrity.

JENNIFER ANISTON.

Jennifer Aniston and her pals sat down at the giant table behind ours. My friends and I narrowed our eyes at each other, wordlessly communicating “play it cool." We continued to eat the burrata, but were far less ravenous than we were before. It was as if we were suddenly self-conscious about how aggressively we'd been attacking our food (it was about time we learned how to be polite members of society). It was in that moment that I noticed an enormous olive oil stain on my button down. This is why we can't have nice things, I thought as I dunked my napkin into my water glass. I dabbed at the stain. It was no use. This was a job for OxyClean.

When our server returned to take our entree orders, I heard my voice jump up two octaves when I said, “I would like the truffled lobster, please and thank you.” Please and thank you? I thought. What am I, a song from Barney?

A mere 10 minutes before, my friends and I were scream-laughing about something that happened on Vanderpump Rules. However, with Rachel Green just a few feet away, we were too nervous to carry on like normal. We put a pin in the "Remember when Miami Girl chased SURvers down the street with a cosmo in hand?" convo. We ate in silence.

Was the truffled lobster as good as I expected? I'm sure it was. But I'd be lying if I said my taste buds didn't go numb out of anxiousness the moment I saw who'd be seated at the table next to mine.

And then, it happened. Jennifer Aniston turned to our table. She looked directly at me. She began to speak directly at me. This is it, I thought. This is the moment when Jennifer Aniston asks us if we'd like to push our tables together.

Nope. She wanted to know if we’d like the rest of her ice cream sandwich.

I clammed up. Couldn’t talk if my life depended on it. Thankfully, one of my friends intervened and graciously accepted the ice cream sandwich. Jennifer Aniston handed me the plate. My hands cramped up (it’s something that happens when I get nervous), but luckily, I did not drop the dish. Hands shaking, I cautiously set the plate in the middle of our table.

Jennifer Aniston and her dinner party finished their meal and stood up from the table. As Jennifer Aniston pushed in her chair, she looked directly at me again. This is it, I thought. Jennifer Aniston is about to offer up her Tide To Go pen so I can take care of this embarrassing olive oil stain.

Nope. She just wanted to wish us all a good evening.

We looked at the ice cream sandwich for a good 15 minutes. The ice cream middle began to melt. We stared as the two cookie end pieces floated around in the ice cream pool. I was still physically unable to speak.

“I can't believe that's Jennifer Aniston's partially eaten ice cream sandwich,” one friend said. "Should we eat it?"

“I think the moment has passed,” the other replied.

“Should we take a picture?”

“No. Some moments are personal and should stay that way, you know?”

“You’re right. This moment is too special for social media.”

"Yeah, it's— Kristie, are you OK?"

At this point, my eyes had glazed over. I was transfixed by the the ice cream soup. Without looking away from the melted dessert, I mumbled, "Gettatogocontainer."

"Kristie, we aren't getting a to go box for this mess," one friend replied.

"GETTATOGOCONTAINER," I shouted.

"You're yelling. Please stop. If you're going to eat it, just eat it now."

I reached for the dish and slowly dragged it across the table. Once it was in front of me, I grabbed the nearest utensil: a salad fork. I attempted to shovel what was left of the ice cream sandwich into my maw with a salad fork. My friends sighed.

After I was through with the tedious endeavor, it was time to leave. We paid our bill, put on our jackets, and walked out into the night. I looked down at my shirt. I noticed the olive oil stain was gone.

"You guys," I whispered. "I think Jennifer Aniston's ice cream sandwich made the olive oil stain disappear."

My friends sighed.

THE END.