My Slurpee Philosophy

When I was a kid, I came up with the philosophy that no matter how much my little body could handle, I would always go for the biggest Slurpee from 7-11 that I could get my hands on. It wasn’t about one flavor either; it was about stacking them one on top of the other to make a piece of icicle art in a cup. I was always amazing by the fact that no matter how much I drank; the colors never seemed to run together. As a kid, my parents probably dreaded driving past a 7-11 with me whining in my car seat until they whipped a turn just to stop my bratty attitude. There’s just something about Slurpees that can turn my frown upside down-cliché, yeah, but it’s true-they remind me of my childhood and it’s something I’ll never forget and I cherish. They’re pretty much the only thing in my life that works as an all around cure for all my problems.

Throughout my life, I’ve never grown old of this ideal meal as I might call it. That’s even the way I spent my homecoming night: driving to 7-11 just to get lips wrapped around another piece of art to add to my lifetime collection. They’re a masterpiece to me and Coke is the only flavor I can always depend on, where, as Pina Colada just isn’t my gig. Brain freezes, yeah, I’ve had quite a few in my lifetime, but that shows dedication, right? Dedication to beat my opponent when it comes down to who can go the longest without a brain freeze. Which surprisingly doesn’t take much; I found that one out rather quickly. Of course, I didn’t always win, but it was fun to try. You can’t blame me, though, brain freezes hurt like hell. It makes me wonder sometimes: how can something so painful taste so good yet hurt so bad? I might have grown out of my car seat and into high heels, but I never grew out of this philosophy and I’m not sure I ever will. I believe in extra large Slurpee’s layered in multiple flavors.