Do you know who you "truly" are?

There should be a movie in which Rambo hunts down and terminates a Bradshaw-type character. Bradshaw could in fact play himself. Just have to trim his eyebrows to make them pointed like evil people's eyebrows tend to look

 

storch:

Drinking, yes. We should find the most substantial drink. And food. All the while we should find the most merry and have them help lead us all into our own merriness. Or we can crawl into a hole and die. Options. Never let it be said there weren't options! Hamlet was a genius, but he was too considerate by far!

 

The utter horror of existing when one has nothing but clues as to how they'll die, but no mention of when. BAM! The shock of life causes central nerve damage. Our days and nights are taxed heavy, with the worst tax of them all: A N X I E T Y.

 

ginandlemon:

Exactly. Make what you will of it. Welcome to me.

 

But I'm better now. Just had to find the right wine (anything above 13%). And if you could keep the conversation light-hearted and not be confronational, that would be a big help too.

 

I think you need help. Want me to help you?

 

I am perfectly capable of getting into my birthday suit by myself, thanks.

 

No, help me instead. And then I'll pass it on to Dejavu . . . if and when I find the time.

 

Ginalee,

He's not kidding. His neighbors and his local police will back me on this.

 

I suddenly realize who I am. I'm a goof-ball. FUCK!!

Why ME?

 

They're always fronting. I hope the clap you're planning to pass on to me is the round of applause I have in mind. I'm not gay in the homosexual sense of the word!

 

Don't look at me dude. I may be even goofier, but I sure as hell didn't start this shit!

 

I hope I didn't give anyone the wrong idea about drinking. The thing is, you've got to know when to stop. Laying flat on your face and finding it beyond your means to reach the bottle is a sure indication that you've had enough. If, on the other hand, you find yourself wearing a makeshift eyepatch using a rubberband and a folded paper-towel sheet so that you can continue watching your favorite movie (for the eighteenth time this year) without seeing double, then you've still got some drunk time left in you on that particular evening, and don't let anyone tell you that you don't.

 

It's great to finally get some support with these issues. I'm so fucking tired of the bradshaws asking me how I'll feel tomorrow.

 

No, you're getting the wrong idea. I'm a Pedo-necro-homo-beastialitist. I thought that was clear. How could you miss that?

 

Yeah, go do that. Will it cure you of mangling your every thought as you turn it into an incoherent sentence?

 

Storch:

It's the decasyllabic structure of the thing. Right over my head. Like the glistening vulva of life.

 

ginalee:

Whoah! Easy there babe. This bird is free! I've got other hungry mouths to fill... er... nothing I say now's going to come out right, is it. :-D

 

Wait, I'm a syllable short. No other name for what you've got there storch! Won't stop me buying you a drink.

 

You're a head case and a half. And the correct spelling is whoa, by the way. There's no h on the end.