Breeze points out it’s now been one year since he started savaging his way through more ice and cream than one would have thought humanly possible (without a heart attack). Check out We All Scream For Ice Cream today for details of their paper anniversary celebration.

So, as some kind of self-styled ‘expert’ (via his 14,240(!) scoop boast) you might think that he would have found time to our fine establishment in Allston Village, but, no, not there or any other Allston creamery. The closest visit (assuming his map is up to date) looks to be Three Scoops in Brighton (which admittedly is pretty good). Please come to Allston Jeff!

Two scoops? Herrell’s is converting into the Allston Cafe, and I’m enjoying the animosity projecting from those who hate either the idea or the dirty, dirty people who came up with it (conveniently ignoring the consensus dumping a teddy-bear’d chain concept is of course the dead-right thing for the community). Feel it burn in the boglo comments. Fun stuff.

weller wrote: Sometimes brash and quirky really means annoying and self important……seeking attention……I’m so different….no your not….your really not. Sort of the same way alcaholic mentally ill homeless person doesn’t equal magical shaman……I HATE Allston.

BuckNutz12 wrote: Heroin and Ice Creame…..great combo

neworder wrote: Punks are fun, but Allston is still the WORST. The WORST parking. The WORST ppl. The WORST commute. And the WORST Venue — Harper’s Ferry (Jimmie’s Chicken Shack played there).

mmedefarge wrote: I would be afraid to buy anything from those people, let alone something edible.

Celts2008 wrote: The idea that someone with tats and thus potentially with Hep A, B, or C is serving me food is disgusting.

Celts2008 wrote: Goth-flavored ice cream with angst toppings.
Look at me. I’m wearing black. I’m so bloody hip. I saw the Cure once.

A precious young one invades Herrell’s.

Nobody wanted to make funny faces at Baby, or tickle Baby’s tummy; they wanted to hold Baby. To try Baby on. Indeed, at least three of them picked Baby up without asking. It was a frenzy. It was madness! They grabbed for Baby, the sword in the goddamn stone; and every one of them fancied him or herself the King of Cool. “How funny,” they were all saying by the crack and curl in the corner of their lips as they held it, “is this baby in my freakishly tattooed arms?”