Sitting here getting very, very drunk. It's 2am and I don't give a fuk. It's one of those "No matter how much I do it still isn't enough" kind of days. Since I'm a cyclothymic, you can make your own decision whether I'm having a depressive episode or I'm just pissed to hell off. I couldn't tell ya, myself. But it's okay. I've got bourbon, and I've got a new rifle, and I've got a Harley, and I've got money in the bank. I'm just not particularly happy at the moment. Four out of five ain't bad.
Don't worry, I'm not considering doing myself any harm, other than beating up on my liver. Time for a refill.
You left out the part about having a good lady....
Who do you think pissed him off?
Pretty much.
better to be pissed off than pissed on.
Unless that's what you're into. We don't judge here.
we don't? damn, I think I'm in the wrong banter.
We judge your politics, cigars, booze, weight, looks, and guns. We don't care what you do with other consenting adults.
Do cuticles fall under looks? Just askin'.
If you're worrying about your cuticles, you're so far gone we consider you handicapped, and we definitely don't judge the handicapped.