Only wheezal can mix humor and crazy whilst waxing philosophical 
. Hang in there wheez, I'm rootin' for ya.....
. Hang in there wheez, I'm rootin' for ya.....4th Unofficially Official Halo Chat Thread: The Sequaling!!!
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Angie that Catholic guilt gets em every time [emoji23]
No lent for me Ima have a beer in honor of wheezals slow decent into madness. Ya know, more than he already was
No lent for me Ima have a beer in honor of wheezals slow decent into madness. Ya know, more than he already was
Hey wait.
I always thought the lyric was "..it comes down to fate."
Rhymes with wait and late, and it makes sense.
OK, wikipaedia agree with me, as does a Billy Joel site. MetroLyrics, you let me down...
From The Story Behind Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young"
I always thought the lyric was "..it comes down to fate."
Rhymes with wait and late, and it makes sense.
OK, wikipaedia agree with me, as does a Billy Joel site. MetroLyrics, you let me down...
From The Story Behind Billy Joel's "Only the Good Die Young"
We'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.
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.
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 though
Wow.
2°.
Got to work, where it was a balmy 12°.
But got some really good hot & sour soup for lunsh. Can't wait!
2°.
Got to work, where it was a balmy 12°.
But got some really good hot & sour soup for lunsh. Can't wait!
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.
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.
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,
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
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.
Weird how my day two of lent is so different than urs! Da man at the liquor store knows me by name now and he finds me funny especially when I knock over his counter displays (except I'm not sure why he rolls his eyes at me? Flirting? Maybe contacts?) I also seem to forget a lot of stuff-where's my keys, my cell phone, my car..... my pants???? (now I understand why Wheez nevar wore his pants-he loses them)
I did wake up this morning with a horrendous headache but went ahead and had some booze for breakfast and wow! I feel WWWWAAAAYYYY better. I don't feel totally rested tho bcuz I have to wake up and pee a lot at night and I catch myself snoring and choking. But again, my booz breakfast just seems to make it all better, well, except at work where I keep screwing things up and everyone is getting mad. A bunch of animals I say! Maybe they need a rum & coke and chill a bit.
all i took from that rant was: yer not wearing pants.
yay!
yay!
I have Monday off...
That will make these last 55 minutes insufferably long.........................................................................................................................................................................
That will make these last 55 minutes insufferably long.........................................................................................................................................................................
Oh, it hurts to laff.....but keep it coming guys!!!!!!!!!! Maybe I can cough up this crud....ugh and do (go on)...........and psyc.........(I did too)
Evening folkses! Anybody home?
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