(no subject)
Here's the thing.
You have a delicious popscicle. Maybe of the root beer variety. You know, the kind where you try to find one every day in the store and they are always out. The kind when someone mentions the name of it, your mouth waters. The kind of popscicle that you find in the last convenience store you even bother to check, the convenience store that is 45 minutes from your house, but you wanted the fucking root beer popscicle so bad you had to find it.
So you go out and get the root beer popscicle.
Satisfaction.
You lean your back up against the hit door of your car, making sure you match it's curves. You hold the popscicle in between your warm-from-driving hands for a few seconds. You're one of those people who loves popscicles at their almost melted state. You look up at the sun, and even though it hurts your eyes, you stare and you blow it a kiss.
Did someone notice that?
You slowly tear open the wrapper, taking in the sound the wet paper makes. You smell the sweet sticky ice treat. You remember that they don't really taste that great, but it's the feeling it gives you that you love.
As you turn around to get in your car so you could enjoy the treat in air conditioning while listening to the CCR CD you burned 4 years ago, but still love...
Some bitch knocks the popscicle out of your hand.
She didn't even say sorry.
Just watch where you're going.
S'all I am sayin.
You have a delicious popscicle. Maybe of the root beer variety. You know, the kind where you try to find one every day in the store and they are always out. The kind when someone mentions the name of it, your mouth waters. The kind of popscicle that you find in the last convenience store you even bother to check, the convenience store that is 45 minutes from your house, but you wanted the fucking root beer popscicle so bad you had to find it.
So you go out and get the root beer popscicle.
Satisfaction.
You lean your back up against the hit door of your car, making sure you match it's curves. You hold the popscicle in between your warm-from-driving hands for a few seconds. You're one of those people who loves popscicles at their almost melted state. You look up at the sun, and even though it hurts your eyes, you stare and you blow it a kiss.
Did someone notice that?
You slowly tear open the wrapper, taking in the sound the wet paper makes. You smell the sweet sticky ice treat. You remember that they don't really taste that great, but it's the feeling it gives you that you love.
As you turn around to get in your car so you could enjoy the treat in air conditioning while listening to the CCR CD you burned 4 years ago, but still love...
Some bitch knocks the popscicle out of your hand.
She didn't even say sorry.
Just watch where you're going.
S'all I am sayin.