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Go on my first train ride, complete with dainty gloves, cucumber sandwiches, and a flask of whisky.
my first train ride

It wasn’t what I expected.
There were no women in fabulous fur hats or teary-eyed lovers running alongside the train as we left. In fact, the car I chose was full of bums and their smells. I definitely couldn’t imagine Rosemary Clooney taking this train, but I could imagine Hunter S. Thompson there. The train had a certain anti-romance about it that reminded me of boxcars and hobos. what was I thinking before? The train ought to be celebrated for what it is: the poor man’s transportation, a place for eccentrics and alcoholics. The next train I take, expect gypsy clothes and bottles in paper bags.

Buy an inflatable kiddie pool and lounge in it all summer, sipping iced teas and making cat calls to the 15-year-old boys in the neighborhood.

my inflatable kiddie pool is disgusting. Murky water the color of diarrhea that’s frozen over, so I can’t even pour it out.
this is why I love summer. winter ruins the magic.

attend burning man
Return without STDs.

Also, I’d like to look fabulous the entire time.

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