Discussion in 'General Chat' started by Bergdorf Goodwill, Feb 7, 2007.
WHY DON'T I HAVE ANY HEROIN? This is bullshiy.
Harvey Birdman alcohol alert level orange.
I smell that sickly smell of jager bombs. I smelt it in the cab, I smelt it in the bathroom, and I smell it in my bedroom. Someone whom I'm close to does this 1x every 7 years. There is a hangover in their near future, I'm mildly miffed, but it is so rare I can only laugh it off.
Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin can openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisure wear and matching luggage. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics.
Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose your future. Choose life . . .
But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life: I chose something else.
And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin?
I fucking love that film. One of the best opening scenes there is.
With Apocalypse now..
Is the movie good, Trainspotting? Maybe will go and rent it later on this boring sunday...
good entry for the DBOTY contest from sir f, imo.
DBOTY? imo? explain.
Thanks for the condolences, guys. I knew the end was near for him, but I certainly didn't want him to depart like that.
That said, there's a big STFU that's about to bubble up at my wife and son who are claiming to miss him terribly. For the past four years there's been one person who has fed, bathed, walked, carried and sat with Trevor. One person. One person rubbed his belly, scratched him behind the ears, checked his teeth, took him for his vet check-ups, trimmed his fur, changed his blankets, dragged him out from under the bed (thank heavens for bamboo floors!), and carried him over the thresholds when he couldn't hop up or down that day. Only one person knew how much weight he'd lost and watched him to make sure he ate something and drank some water every day. Anyone else who claims to miss him is welcome to kiss my ass.
Ugh, that sounds terrible. Worst part is that your son found him. Sorry to hear about that, T. Our dogs are almost like children so I can only imagine how hard people in your family are taking it.
It certainly sounds like it. I hope your friend is able to eventually come to terms with his loss.
A tragedy indeed. You, sir, need to find a place where your money and company are more appreciated.
Grab a pot and wooden spoon and greet somebody you love with a little wake up call.
Do yourself a favor and go to a place where movies are sold or rented and buy it or rent it, immediately!
Spoiler: Warning: Spoiler!
Thomas, you're a good man.
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