Picture this, I hobble my frozen half-conscious ass into the gas station at 6:15 this morning, looking borderline walking dead-esque, and proceed to collect the caffeine and nicotine it takes to not throw myself off a bridge at that hour (and yes, I drive across a bridge to work so it would be super convenient). The cashier asks to see my ID and once she looks at it, tells me I'm still a little baby and I look like I'm on my way to high school (you literally couldn't pay me enough money to repeat high school!). She's a liar, but now I'm pretty sure I have to go to that specific gas station for the rest of my work life.
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