Only wheezal can mix humor and crazy whilst waxing philosophical . Hang in there wheez, I'm rootin' for ya.....
Twelve years after high school—Joel didn’t graduate because of a missed English credit—he was on the brink of rock stardom. He’d already scored Top 40 hits with “Piano Man” and “The Entertainer” and was writing songs for what became his breakthrough album, 1977’s The Stranger. On “Only the Good Die Young,” he reapproached his crush with these brashly humorous opening lines:
“Come out Virginia, don’t let me wait
You Catholic girls start much too late
Aw, but sooner or later it comes down to fate
I might as well be the one”
The only good one they made was the cinnful (sp?) Apple I think. I bought the mixed pack last year and that was my favorite. It's definitely not the worst cider I've had thoughWe'll drop to 10F, and the next few days, lows of single digits.
But mid Feb, and this is the first Arctic blast.
While dealing with this, I found yet another must pass on hard cider. Angry Orchard, I'm not fond of your apple flavored cider.
Day 2
The journey to sobriety does not fare well for me. Aches and pains from injuries past have decided to commit their villainous vengeance upon my body. My coordination has suffered greatly, as expected with the years of overcompensating (ladies, ) for my usual bouts of inebriation.
Mentally, the anguish is every bit as severe as i had feared. Repressed memories started as nightmares, have now evolved into waking dreams that serve only to torment me during the harshness of the daylight.
i just spilled chorizo on my shirt from my breakfast taco....normally this would mean i would eat my shirt to get every delicious drop of flavor. Now instead i find myself irritated at the stain....i mean not THAT irritated...the shirts pretty stained already from....erm...noneofyerbidness.
My coworkers have cut me a wide berth, which i welcome. I find them to be petty people with annoying high pitched voices and excessive amounts of body fat. That hasn't changed at all from my usual drunken state, but apparently we had reached an equilibrium of tolerance that now no longer persists. A few have commented that my consistent wearing of pants is a welcome addition to the workday. Jerks.
Even my morning commute has suffered, apparently there are lines actually painted onto the road signifying lanes that one is supposed to stay between. Now they blind me with their offensive color as they force me to conform to the standards that society expects of a regularly sober person. I even found out about a pedal in my car that actually will slow down and stop my vehicle, which apparently you are supposed to use instead of just flying over pedestrians. What kind of sadistic monster designed this car...this instrument of torture?
The world is a large and scary place, and without the comfort of drink, i find myself to be very small (not in that way, ladies ) and quite unprepared for a landscape that rewards conformity and the ability to have multiple coherent thoughts without wetting one's self from lack of self control.
It is a society of slaves, and i have placed the collar around my neck.....it's called....a necktie.
*cue dramatic music....or polka....or Conway Twitty...all are appropriate.
omg i think i just squirtedddddddddddddddddddddddddd..................................