...though mine was a 750ml. 2013 vintage
So now you get a weak, week-ending photo dump and a minor mea culpa session, which of course you did not ask for, but shall receive with the worst of wishes...
And, in order to not confuse and infuriate myself with my own disorder, I shall use the annotated list format, one that I am one with, a device that is useful only when inebriation trumps cognition, when problems outweigh solutions, when screaming is silenced by the whisper of my nose hairs...
1. I am in serious debate/negotiations on whether or not to zombify myself and drive to Denver, then hitch a ride to Tucson for Single Speed Arizona here in two weeks or so. I will be carpooling with the reigning SS national champion Cameron Chambers - also the reigning 24hr national champion - who will more than likely win said race...but the Pirate, who will round out this rode-trip triumvirate, has yet to promise me a 12 hour massage/handjob on the return trip, which is the only way I can get enough energy in reserve to make the 8hr. overnight drive back to KC on Sunday. Fuck.
2. Tomorrow night is Dirt Cred #1, and I don't have a new prom dress, nor do I know of a discreet location wherein I can have an abortion in a dumpster. I had violent sexual relations with Dennis Rodman while Kim John Uno Ill Communication looked on, and I just don't know if I can support a child whose only talent is rebounding and dying his/her faux afro.
3. I did not make it to The Bier Station once this week, though I did attend the Westport Poor Decision Awards, signed up for two categories, yet was never called upon to unleash my verbal excrement...Jones, I blame you and your panel of hotness that judged with their loins rather than their toes.
4. In the sweet, anal end, the weather was so joyous that I about preyed to the Goddess of Polar Vortices, and thanked her for the foggy, 40 degree day we were enveloped in, this Friday of our Lorde...Monday was -15 and the long-range forecast is high 40's for the next 7 days: how can one possibly be bored enough to masturbate to reruns of Days of Our Live's when the outdoors are so enticing?