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LEMONADE
I met up with my friend at Fort Book and we had a nice lunch over at the Innis café. Afterwards, I was walking home along Harbord and saw a new little yuppie place advertising $4 lemonade.
"Yeah, right," I thought. But I was really thirsty and lemonade seemed like a good idea. So in I went. The guy looked at me funny, and slammed an icy carafe of fresh-squeezed lemonade—seeds and all, and with a sprig of mint—on the counter.
I took one sip and had to admit it was the best fucking lemonade I'd ever had*. He sort of smirked, like what else was I expecting for $4?
Mmm, lemony-minty-bliss. I am such a bougie fuck.
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rohmie, it was like the lemonade equivalent of that orange juice at the Bourgeois Pig.
"Yeah, right," I thought. But I was really thirsty and lemonade seemed like a good idea. So in I went. The guy looked at me funny, and slammed an icy carafe of fresh-squeezed lemonade—seeds and all, and with a sprig of mint—on the counter.
I took one sip and had to admit it was the best fucking lemonade I'd ever had*. He sort of smirked, like what else was I expecting for $4?
Mmm, lemony-minty-bliss. I am such a bougie fuck.
rohmie, it was like the lemonade equivalent of that orange juice at the Bourgeois Pig.