So I’m driving down one of Phoenix’s many fine roadways this morning, spending an hour behind the wheel as I often do. I got passed by a guy about my age in a huge F150 and I noticed something. He had one of those cup holders on his door, the plastic ones you slide in under the glass. And in it was large package of French fries. He was munching away on said fires as he plowed along. I looked at the clock on my dashboard and thought to myself – where does one even get a basket of fries at 7:30 in the morning?
Strange days, indeed.
The great mystery of phoenix is how so many obese people can live somewhere where daily average highs are well above the melting temperature of fat.
I too, don’t expect salvation to come from within. A cheap hooker and a fifth of bourbon will set me free from my sins.
Don’t you know that’s the magic of the f150?
If you are truely bubba, and belive..
Fries rain from the heavens like manna.
As do all manner of greasy fried workman food.
And if it was god’s own bubba you witnessed, the fries were there from hours ago, maybe a 5am call from whataburger.
And Eddy Merckx eats his with mayonnaise.
If you were a decent college student you would know all the 24 hour drive throughs, so I say that to say this. Sonic’s full menu is available 24 hours a day. As a side note, I can only stuff that shit in my mouth only while drunk as hell and it tastes great!
Yeah and when we were kids that would have been an ashtray.
One vice replaced another.