Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Forced Alternatives

I was declined the honor of attending my school's senior picnic yesterday morning.
Excitement had overcame me and all of a sudden it was all taken away from me in a few simple words,
"The bus is full, sorry."
Words that have the potential to break your heart.
The bus wasn't even filled, I asked someone after.
There were at least 10 empty seats. Fuckin' heated, dude.

All I wanted to do was go to the town beach with my peers and enjoy myself in a sober manner.
I guess it's not a huge deal, but come on.
The kids are the trip got huge tubs of chicken wings and extensive numbers of cheese pizza. 
I love pizza. Especially cheese pizza.

I've also only recently considered the condition of my town's beach.
My expectations for the trip were as followed:

I bet those kids were bummed when they walked into that planet of the apes shit.
Straight up post-apocalypse shit, someone should clean that up.

Fuck it, keep it real like Kramer.

Motherfucking Chronic Kramer.
Keep it classy like Kramer, red wine.
+Fat ass pile of chronic.
+Rock, paper, scissors on snack duty

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