cocktail umbrellas
At 12:01 a.m. Monday, I was sipping on something tropical and twirling a little red umbrella made by oppressed third-world factory workers. I looked at the delicately fabricated little drink umbrella, pondering the sad existence in the cocktail umbrella sweat shop somewhere in mainland China. I had so much in common with the people who toil day in and day out so that my tropical drinks can have the garnish that I so richly deserve.
Howie, David and I were chatting about our sorority social order. "How did *I* become the bad one?" was what Howie wondered aloud. David and I thought it was clear! Some people are just born that way. Like cocktail umbrellas are born in China.
That was about the time when the bartender (also David's graduate assistant) made an announcement that gay marriages would start to take place en masse (also in Mass.) at the stroke of 12:01. We lifted our drinks to that! Unfortunately, the umbrella stuck me in the nose. Ew.
Howie, David and I were chatting about our sorority social order. "How did *I* become the bad one?" was what Howie wondered aloud. David and I thought it was clear! Some people are just born that way. Like cocktail umbrellas are born in China.
That was about the time when the bartender (also David's graduate assistant) made an announcement that gay marriages would start to take place en masse (also in Mass.) at the stroke of 12:01. We lifted our drinks to that! Unfortunately, the umbrella stuck me in the nose. Ew.
posted by jblend at
Monday, May 17, 2004
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home