Quote:
Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
Oh, I don't feel bad. I've waged a war with my damned brain for years. Its a resilient son of a bitch, but one of these days, I'm going to pummel the fucker and slip into a silly blissful contentment of upper middle class cluelessness. I want to float around in my SUV, unaware of anything but the groccery list and next month's trial. I want to get numb enough to enjoy golf... Like Chevy Chase said in Xmas Vacation, be "The hap hap happiest [motherfucker] since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny fucking Kaye! ..." There's much work still to be done... I've got the bastard on the ropes, but he's holding on like Tex Fucking Cobb. Fool. He can't beat the good people at Stolichnaya. Not since they've invented that dastardly Vanilla variety... Nothing is tastier than fine lox and ice cold Stoli Vanilla. Cleanses the palate like nothing else.
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Although it sounds like you throw a mean brunch, the rest of this post sounds like my version of hell.
TM
