Todays first mistake was having corn mayo for a snack. I love corn! I love mayo! Put that shit together. Needless to say it lacked. It lacked flavor and dignity. So I added some Pthttttttt. That stuff will fix any vegetable. It's a chili lime sprinkle you can accidentally overdose on. The best part about Pthttttttt is the warning on the cap. "This is not a candy" While that statement alone is confusing I gave it some thought. Visions of the cinnamon test ran through my head. Seriously, people mostly teens are choking themselves by swallowing spoonfuls of cinnamon much to the delight of onlookers. The Pthtttttt reminded me of Pico a powdered Mexican candy that's both spicy and sweet. You dump it straight into your mouth. Usually the white kids couldn't handle it so they stayed with the saltier ones like Limoncho. It's like pixi stix from south of the border. Thanks Mexico!!
As a kid we would buy these salty hypertension treats from the Pels truck. They also had the best fucking lemonade in the whole world. If you had lunch money you starved to blow it all on lemonade and salt you dump in your mouth that makes you thirsty, oh look a lemonade truck. Genius. This was the desert treat. The last time I had one of their amazing lemonades was with my mother Kathy and her boyfriend Bob. This was long after high school and I was fiending for one on a visit to her. I had in my hand the largest they offered. My hand was slick with the quickly evaporating condensation. In my right hand I opened the drivers side door and that fucker flung open and obliterated my frozen lemonade. That shit flew the fuck everywhere. It was a literal golden shower of stickiness and grief. I wept. My left hand hurt. The car was a trillion degrees inside and I had no damn lemonade to cool me.
Whenever I bring up the desert an onslaught of nostalgia comes forth. My childhood was not normal or even pleasant. In fact it sucked. So many things went wrong. So many things were out of my control. I was raised by two women who both passed within months of each other this past year. Neither should have reared children. My paternal grandmother was physically abusive and my mom was a junkie. Not a parental bone in either of their bodies yet I was left in their care with my two siblings. My next entry will elaborate on them. As for now I just wish I had a lemonade.