If you own a restaurant, I am begging you to have your menu on your website. Do not force people to start an online order just to view it. I just want to know if you serve queso. I shouldn’t have to select a location, pickup time, and my astrological sign just to find out.
This is Nolan. His humans have kissed all the color off of his face over the last ten years. Some seniors are silver foxes, he is a silver sweetie pie. 13/10 #SeniorPupSaturday
Stateside, a gas station. I drank a frozen blue beverage too quickly, and was struck down by a punishment this entire nation knows, and accepts, and has named.
The drink is called a slush. Ice, sweetness, and a blue that does not occur in nature. The day was hot. I was thirsty. I drank like a soldier at a river.
The pain arrived in my skull like a war horn.
Behind the eyes. Above everything. Total. I gripped the roof of my car. I may have made a sound.
"Brain freeze," said the cashier through the door, with no urgency whatsoever.
It has a NAME. The affliction is so common it has a household name, like a cousin.
"Tongue on the roof of your mouth," called a man at the pumps. He did not look over. He prescribed the remedy mid-pump, casually, the way one mentions weather.
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. The war horn faded. The healer nodded at his pump, finished, and was gone in a Chevrolet.
In my land, punishment follows crime by way of courts and seasons. Here, the sentence is instant. Drink with greed, and the ice strikes the mind directly. No trial. No appeal. Perfectly fair.
And here is what moves me. EVERYONE has felt it. The cashier. The healer. Children. Elders. An entire nation united by the same small lightning, all taught the same cure, all passing it on to strangers at gas stations, free of charge.
You cannot fully distrust a country once you know it shares one pain.
The freeze does not punish thirst. It punishes haste.
I finished the slush slowly, like a scholar. Blue tongue. Clear mind.
Then at the door I forgot everything, drank deeply, and was struck down again.
"Tongue, hon," said the cashier, without looking up.
Discipline is a journey.
you can have your opinions on Taylor Swift but this constant push to say that women are "acting like teenagers" whenever they express excitement is sooo rooted in misogyny like nobody says this about men screaming at football games
This is like the Minnesota version of the Europe map where Portugal, Spain, Italy, Greece, and Turkey are all in the same zone.
It’s F and it’s not even close.