Evening, muchachos, if any of you are here. V Lancero and whiskey on the rocks. The whole world is fucked up, so I'm drinking hard tonight.
Don't be drinking too hard... It's a school night.
Just kidding, brother. I hope you're ok.
Oh, hell. I'm fine. Just annoyed. So it's a three double-whiskey night. But that was between 6pm and now, so I'm not remotely drunk. Just rosy.
This is the year of Everybody Give Bret A Vehicle. My dad gave me the diesel Suburban that I use to tow the travel trailer, I got the 1992 Toyota pickup running that an old friend traded me for a futon and a couple old computers. Then I ended up with the '79 Sportster that my drug-addicted brother forfeited to me when he defaulted on a $400 loan. Now my brother wants to give me a 1994 Ford F-150 and a PT Cruiser (#2 son wants the cruiser), and my mother-in-law is giving the warden her low-mileage Camry. But the warden doesn't want to give up her 1994 Maxima, because it's a little race car with a new engine that only has 30K miles on it. It's beginning to look like a damned used car lot around here. Maybe I should call Bad Dad.