Are you serious right now? I’m a fully certified neurosurgeon. I can break into people’s heads and rewire their brains and tamper with their memory, no problem. But this? This juice box? This sugary drink marketed for eight year olds? No. Sticking a straw into this juice container is apparently just too much for me to handle without fucking it up. I’m done. I quit. Goodbye.
This right here, ladies and gentlemen, just might be the best beauty-and-beast-story ever.
Because any little girl (or boy for that matter) should grow up knowing that you could be a giant green ogre, and you’d still be bloody gorgeous to the ones that matter. And not in the “oh, I can overlook your flaws” -kind of way. But in the “those aren’t flaws, they are beauty spots!”-kind of way.