On Wednesday night I tagged along with Autumn and Erin to see a movie at the beach- the cinematic classic Casablanca, with a surging soundtrack of the sea behind it. (One of the many reasons I love L.B.).
The best part of the night was riding bikes to and from Autumn's place- like cowgirls tackling the West, we rode into the sunset. Literally. We were drenched in golden luster.
Before the film began, levity ensnared us-
It started over the quality of the free popcorn being handed out in WWII-style rationings. Erin was mortified that it was bagged rather than freshly popped. She reminisced about the days when she used to buy cheese flavored popcorn from an elementary school, far superior to the homogenized yellow puffs we were now munching on. Her solemnity and conviction spurred us on.
"This stuff isn't even popped in America!"
"Do you smell that? Smells like... lead!"
"How can you keep eating at a time like this!"
"These kernels probably date back to the 80's before they started turning corn into fuel- No wonder it's so crappy! It's vintage!"
There we were, three little burritos, wrapped snuggly in our blankets and hoodies, laughing hysterically into the night.
1 comment:
burritos eating packing peanuts.
People will eat anything if you hand it to them in a cellophane bag during a movie.
"It must be OK. It's in a sealed bag!"
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