Road Sodas
Yeah yeah yeah. I know, I know. But still. Warm road sodas on a longer than necessary road trip. Man, it’s fucking hard to get out of Chicago. It’s like there’s a tractor beam, sucking your Nissan’s rear bumper, refusing to let you break free. Suburb booby traps that extend forever. We finally made it though.
To be fair the driver only had one.
Get a job, sir.
So I realize that my hair is fucked up. Time to go see Joe on Fullerton. He even shaves the back of your neck with a straight razor and old-timey smelling lather. I bet if I could grow a beard, he’d shave that too. Anyway, it’s getting time to choose between a summer “gimme some mo-” hawk, or the biznass professional. We’ll find out soon which will be appropriate.
Also an old bike ride.
