They get snowcones with you, even though you’ve been eating snowcones at a rate of like 4 a week.
One is such a lonely number.
Much better together.
Later, we snuggled in bed with the puppies and watched “Girls” and “The Newsroom” and read Cosmo.
Love you, D!
We’ve been dating a year and a half, and somehow it hadn’t come up yet.
But, there we stood, my boyfriend and I, brandishing our OU IDs for free Eskimo Sno, and there I was, asking the spiky-haired owner for the most sour flavor he had.
He doped my ice up with wild cherry and sour apple, then sprayed it with a mysterious liquid.
He sprayed it many, many times.
He said, “Try that and see if it’s good enough.”
(It’s brown because it’s evil)
I spooned out a hefty amount and put it in my mouth.
My face twisted in sweet (and sour) agony. It’s hard for me to describe HOW SOUR this snocone was because just thinking about it is making my mouth seize, and it’s really distracting.
“That’s pretty good,” I choked out.
I couldn’t even finish the whole thing, but I made a quite valiant effort, if I do say so myself.
Sour spray usually costs 25 cents extra. While my bank account could spring for the extra thrill, my tastebuds really couldn’t handle it.