Lemons are great if you’re using them conservatively in hot water to promote fluid digestion (pun so intended). But if you’re just squeezing and squeezing to see how much juice comes out and then using that juice to promote not digestion (or lemonade) but to emulate the distinct facial expression of a sourpuss that transcends the boundaries of aesthetic grotesqueness, I think we should have a talk.
Not necessarily about lemons but definitely about why you’re squinting so hard.
I once spent a week in Mexico consuming constipation that knows no mercy in the form of Kosher for Passover nourishment while Amelia, still planted firmly at her desk in the depths of Noho, lamented about the wet weather of a less climactically fortunate New York.
I understand that it was easy for me, from my brightly lit vantage point, to wax poetic on the benefits of abundant rain and for her, in the throes of the anterior, to want to axe (less than poetically) my flowery prose in the face.
But as I ease back into a reality that comes replete with the same wet weather she (all of you?) has been admonishing, I maintain that rain isn’t that bad. Agriculturally, it’s kind of the da bomb. And while yeah, sure, the sun is out today, that is not a fact I was privvy to until I opened my eyes this morning to learn that the little cloud in my iPhone’s weather app done me wrong and this was already written. Then again, it’s March. And even the most primitive nursery rhyme knows that this month, more than any month, brings on begrudging showers.
But back to that point about lemons. We at Man Repeller love lemons and said love comes as easily as not perpetuating the fruit’s negative properties. So in the spirit of that AND for the sake of this remarkably sunny day (according to a very reliable meteorologist called My Thumb, it might be the last of its kind through the foreseeable future), consider this a pick me up pro rain, anti suede.