Two posts in one day, but my brother is the funniest brother in the whole world. John asked me if I wanted a pop, the answer “no.” He decided to get himself a caprisun style juice box out of the fridge (the last one upstairs) and I said that I’ll have that one. Out of rage and to spite me, John smashed the juice box on the floor expecting only simple drama and cheap tricks. Alas, the juice box exploded like a grenade spraying it’s acid orange juice all over the kitchen. That includes a few drips on my laptop keyboard even though it was up and open and facing away from the toxic spill. To say the least, neither of us had a pop or juice.

For all of my USA friends, a pop is a soda.