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Friday, 11 April 2003
The bastards want me fat.
There's this ice cream place where I live called Cold Stone. Not only is it funny because conversation about it could easily be misconstrued as a debate about Steve Austin, the haggared, beer swilling pro wrestler.
(By the way, I love how they're called the WWE now, and that the reason is a tiny animal rights activist group, the World Wildlife Fund)
So this ice cream place, they got lots of creamy, chunklet free flavors of ice cream that you then select add-ins (candy bars, grahm cracker crumbles, nuts, etc.) to have them mix into the ice cream on a cold stone, thus the name.
The trick here, and in some other newer businesses, is that the smallest possible serving costs $2.99. The next step up costs a mere 20 cents more. Add more toppings, and the're only a quarter. All in all, it adds up if you get the large $3.50 serving, add two extra toppings making it $4.00, then go for the dipped waffle cone, arriving at a grand total of $5.00.
I mean, you're spending three bucks already if you want to be cheap, but if you really wanted to be cheap, you'd buy a peppermint patty and put it in the freezer. What's two more bucks for a gluttonous fat fart? Nothing. Two more steps towards a hollow, meaningless sense of defeat and desparation.
I'm a junky for this shit.
I'm never going back. I don't need it.
I hate you for saying it's no big deal.
This is serious. I have no money and my underwear is turning into what seems to be guaze.
Help.
Posted by pudbat
at 11:56 AM EDT
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