Why I love summertime - in a word: Freezy-Pops.
Ok, one hyphenated word.
What? It counts.
Anyway, Freezy-Pops � they�re what�s for dinner.
Yeah, but it�s either that or the three thousand left over soy sauce packets I keep in the little cheese compartment in my fridge.
I know. Like they�re not going to throw another three thousand packets in the bag the next time I order take-out.
It�s always so strange - why do they give you so many?
Even more strange, why do I feel compelled to hoard them like, should a nuclear bomb strike my biggest worry will be I will suddenly become sodium deficient or something?
Time to hit the grocery store. Ya think?
In other news, it�s a sad, sad day.
My sneakers have gotten the funk.
Which means, the time has come to finally send them to the big Aromatic Cedar Shoe Rack in the sky.
It�s sad, really. No! Shut up! It is!
They�re my Chucks. I have had them many, many years. We�ve gone to many, many rock shows together. We�ve tooled the streets of many great North American cities.
And as any good chuck-wearing person, it�s mandated you wear them �til they are so torn and worn so thin you can feel the hot, tarred pavement through the bottom of the soles on a sultry summer day. That and well, you wear �em �til they develop their own
I know. Just say it.
You totally want to date me.