Post by andy laura scott on Apr 1, 2009 12:32:38 GMT -5
if the world is ending i'm throwing the party !
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--Why was it that there never seemed to be any alcohol at the concession stand type things? People were pretty much forced to bring their own from home, it annoyed Andy to no end. She knew that after a long practice the first thing she wanted to do was drink some kind of alcoholic drink...mostly because she was stuck spending her practices with none other than Shane, the one person on earth that she could honestly say she hated more than her mother. Or at least as much as her mother....even if what her mother did was far worse than what Shane did. But whatever, Andrea was amazing at holding grudges, when she wanted to.
--She hopped off the stage with a loud sigh, having left her bass guitar for someone else to take care of. She really just wanted something to drink, god damn it. But she hadn't brought anything, and so she was probably going to be stuck with juice, or some shit. Fucking apple juice, with her good luck. And everyone knew apple juice was probably the worst kind of juice ever...or at least Andy did. She preferred orange, or cranberry, or just no juice at all. Throwing her slightly messy from practicing hair up in a quick pony tail she scanned the area quickly, before walking off and trying to find something to settle her grumbling stomach, and maybe something to drink. If there was anything good to drink.
--Upon spotting a hot dog stand she sighed once more. It seemed as though sighing was all she had been doing all day. It was most certainly not one of Andy's good days...not surprising really. Her good days were far and few in between. Especially of late. Not that the tour wasn't fun, but she really didn't like being stuck on a bus with her band members all day. Not that she disliked her band members...well, she disliked one of them, but the rest of them were pretty cool. Sometimes. When they weren't getting on her nerves.
--The girl slowly strolled over to the hot dog stand, her usual frown on her naturally pink lips. It wasn't that she was unhappy all the time, she just didn't have a reason for smiling, so she wasn't going to wear a happy face when she was mad. This, of course, made everyone think she was unhappy all the time. Although at this moment in life...she really was kind of unhappy. Even if she didn't quite have a good reason for being so. "Hot dog." She said, simply, reaching into her bra to get her money. She wasn't one to carry a purse around...she didn't even have a purse. She didn't even bother to look around to see if anyone had watched her reach down and get it. Fuck them if they were looking. "Ketchup, no mustard."
--Maybe it wasn't the most polite way to order, but she wasn't getting paid to be polite. No, she was paying them. If they had been rude to her as well, she'd shrug it off. They weren't exactly getting paid to be polite either. They were getting paid to make her a damned hot dog, so as long as they did that they'd get their money. And they did do that, her hot dog appeared in mere seconds. And so she handed over her money, took her change and put it in the tips jar, before turning around and scanning the area. One day, when she was too old to preform, she vowed to make a stand for all the alcoholics. Not that she was an alcoholic, or anything of the sort. She sighed loudly, then took a bite of her hot dog. Even if it wasn't liquor it was still pretty good tasting.
count: 658
outfit; click
lyrics; guilty pleasure - cobra starship
tags; ransom
notes; epic suckage >.< sorry.
