Personally, I hate the concept of lines. I don't know what it is, maybe some feeling of entitlement, or shame. Somehow the New Yorker in me always equates standing on line, with the Bridge and Tunnel idiots from New Jersey who beg and plead to be let into some stupid club in Manhattan that's just filled with Bridge and tunnel idiots from New Jersey anyway. Yet I digress. Aimlessly strolling through Beverly Hills, as I'm wont to do from time to time, we came across Sprinkles, a cup cake shop.
What? A cup cake shop, do I hear you say? Yeah. A cup cake shop. But not just any cup cake shop, a cup cake shop with a fucking line out front.
So Brandy begs and pleads to wait on this line so we can get cup cakes. Ugggghhhhh. This was no small line, mind you. I've got to try and paint the picture correctly here first. I don't have a standard issue with all lines in general-the bank, the movies, stuff like that, inevitable and understandable. But waiting in line for a fucking cup cake just really gets to me. I just hate it.
Also noteable here, is the styrofoam cup in Brandy's hand, yes that's right, styrofoam, with SODA in it. Moded.
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