Author:
dox
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Date:
1/30/2009 1:45:42 AM
Subject:
LIfe on the edge
On Tuesday, while loudly flipping the pages of a book in the library, I drank a soda that expired on 12/29/08.
I have no plans on visiting any sort of walk in clinic, doctor, or well known midwife - I'm that confident. My stomach is like a cast iron pot filled with digestive acids, and has thus far made short work of the otherwise unremarkable beverage.
It's touch and go out here on the edge, sometimes. You know, pushing that envelope isn't for everyone, and those that aren't prepared for it could quickly wind up in a bad way. Nobody wants that.
Why do I do the things I do you might ask? I do them because if I didn't someone else - probably a thirsty hobo - would step in before they were ready. Me, I was born ready. I need to walk the thin line dividing danger and horror because it's in my blood. My father walked the line, his father, his father's father, and so on. All line walkers.
They really need to stop putting the expiry date underneath the cap.
