No, no. Dave does not beat his wife. But if you’d read the notes Joe and Kyle held up in Grade 12 Chemistry some 20 years ago, you’d read that I did. Yes, it was 1994 when I met those guys. Terrific bastards, them both. One of them now somewhere in Europe with a girl he’ll likely soon marry, so long as he can keep up the act that he loves her half as much as he loves this web site. The other, a short 20-minute drive up the road, living the dream life and tending to all the brake, exhaust and french-fries-clogging-the-shifter problems I send his way. May none of us ever grow up too much to stop appreciating the stupid, insane, simple things in this world.
End of my day. Treadmill’s still broken. That pissed me off, so I ate some pizza and wings and vanilla pudding and brownies, in that order and in the amount of time it took you to read that. Perhaps not surprisingly, it did not make me feel better. Now I’m done my nightly porn browsing and typing these last few words while sitting in a disorganized office that smells oh so strongly of cat piss. “Yes, let’s put a cat litter in the office. That’s a great idea!” said no one, ever.
Here’s hoping high blood pressure and undigested pizza is conducive to good sleep!