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i just got back from firing my first gun. i fired a .357 magnum, a 12 guage and 2 pissy .22s (a rifle and a pistol). pickshurs later. i have to go to work now and move my arse.
more distressing was last night, after drinking wicked chicken i had to be sick. the irony was that i'd been reading "one in the bush: the art of vaginal fisting" and then had to stick my fingers down my throat. did i say irony? i meant something else.
needless to say after a hillbilly breakfast of chciken, mashed spuds, mac and cheese, cobbler and pie and sweat tea. i felt much better.
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sweat tea doesnt sound very comforting at all. it sounds...rank.
comforting things today:
walking into the kitchen with a hangover, only to see half of a 12" diameter pie sitting on the countertop begging to be eaten. just begging. it was like pie porn, this naughty little fuckslut of a pie, blinking teary pie-eyes at me and whining at me to EAT ALL OF ME RIGHT NOW. I NEED YOU TO EAT ME. PLEASE, IM BEGGING, JUST FUCKING EAT ME.
so i did. it was chicken and ham. it was three feet beyond yum.
also comforting: islands in the stream. i only listened to it six times today. with your help, lord, i will beat this addiction! until i find dolly's version of stairway to heaven- her GOSPEL/ BLUEGRASS version of stairway to heaven.
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