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Am I supposed to be a man, am I supposed to say, it's OK, I don't mind. I don't mind. Well I mind! I mind big time? And you know what the worst part is? I NEVER LEARNED TO READ.

Who's trying to kill you Mr. Donuthead man?

(just for you Grillz)
"Yep, this is definitely the kind of apartment I'll have if I ever move out of my parents' basement."

TMC and Bohnzie, you both better watch you you call out because I'd never done a crazy thing in my life before that night. Why is it, that if a man kills another man in battle it's called heroic; yet if he kills a man in the heat of passion, it's called murder?

I'll just rip your still beating heart out of your chest and hold it in front of your face so you can see how black it is before you die.

So there's me, and Keith Moon, and David Crosby, breaking into that little sweets shop, eh. Well, instead of a guard dog, they've got this bloody great big Bengal tiger. I managed to take out the tiger with a can of mace, but the shopkeeper and his son... that's a different story altogether. I had to beat them to death with their own shoes. Nasty business, really, but sure enough I got the M&Ms, and Ozzy went on stage and did a great show.

Well, the world's a twisted place.

I see we're bouncing to WW2...

Well, the world's a twisted place.

I see we're bouncing to WW2...

ah, green jacket, gold jacket, who gives a damn?

(Dude, it's who gives a shit)
(and Matty, sorry for hijacking this thread)

I didn't *break* it, I was merely testing its durability, and I *placed* it in the woods cause it's made of wood and I thought he should be with his family.

(Dude, it's who gives a shit)
(and Matty, sorry for hijacking this thread)

I didn't *break* it, I was merely testing its durability, and I *placed* it in the woods cause it's made of wood and I thought he should be with his family.

Damnit, I'm an idiot. I knew that didn't seem right when i posted it. I should have known better, especially since I whispered that to a coworker during a meeting a little too loud last week.

I guess I'm just losing touch with reality. BUT, reality isn't father knows best anymore. It's a kick in the face on a Saturday night with a steel-toe grip Kodiak workboot, a trip to the hospital bloodied and bashed. Reconstructive surgery. But, what doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.