My tires on my car are low (note to self: take care of this shit) and I was looking in the glovebox to see if there was a tire pressure gauge in there. The car belongs to my grandmother and I’m just borrowing it for the year. I found the usual assortment of junk in there; flashlight, owner’s manual…corkscrew.
I mean, obvi, who doesn’t keep a corkscrew in their glovebox?
Also, this weekend my family managed to shock/appall Eric again. When we were ready to drive downtown to dinner, my mom suggested Eric pour his unfinished beer into a cup and make it a traveler. If there’s one thing I fucking love about the south, it’s travelers.
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