[[somewhat fitting that when attempting to achieve the flavour of said-dead soda, i end up concocting what the laypeople so-dub, "suicide soda/pop"]]

tonight, i was mixing and matching and mashing at the fountain in queue in front of a v. exhausted 30something mother with her two v. exhausting pre-primary school children. her toe tapped something audible and fierce as i went for the cherry pepsi, the orange, the sprite, the diet and the complimentary lemon wedges.

"how childish," she scoured just above under-her-breath volume.

as grabbing chopsticks, tamari and straw, i notice her children are emulating me.

"how childish" indeed. I have a legitimate reason with quite the tangible goal in mind when suicidepopping. You're children are doing it because they think i'm cool and that that is what cool people do. [[which it is cos i am.]]

lady should be mo'fo-in' thankful that i wasn't smoking a cigarette or a pole.
cos either tends to be pretty damned "cool" too. [[which is is cos i am.]]

i could've ignored it.
but instead.
i offered a miniature public service announcement.
i turned to the little boys still going at it with the soda choices and said, "stay away from the root beer when mixing. ...and stay in school."