Maryland's Attorney General, Douglas F. Gansler, announced an agreement with MillerCoors that will result in the nationwide discontinuance of the country’s top-selling pre-mixed alcoholic energy drink, Sparks.
As part of the agreement across 14 states, the mega brewer will not produce any caffeinated alcohol beverages in the future. Sparks future was in doubt when light was brought to the Attorneys General that the beverages were being marketed to an underage audience and used misleading health-related information to help sell more cans...
If you're planning on switching to a Sparks alternative, think again. This past May, Anheuser-Busch announced they would stop producing alcoholic energy drinks, including Tilt and Bud Extra. With the elimination of Sparks from the market, nearly 85% of all alcoholic energy drinks that were available at the start of this year will no longer be sold.
Friday, December 19, 2008
I AM SO ANGRY
And here's why:
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Miseries of Pittsburgh
Okay it's like 400 days later and I still haven't finished writing about this damnable trip! This will be the last post about it. It will be epic, and cover everything. It will be abbreviated.
Day 6: In Pittsburgh
5:00 - Arrival at the Pittsburgh airport. Waiting to pick me up was JAY.
Jay: First seen at the airport terminal, bearded and carrying a copy of the Koran. Fortunately my plane was early, so he didn't have enough time to get arrested.
5:30 - There is no better entrance to a city than the Fort Pitt tunnel.
6:00 - So there's this beer called ichor by some brewer I've never heard of. The old Italian guy that runs Grazziano's pizza place apparently got a bunch in and is selling them for cheap. Hello delicious. Also, Jay and JIM are brewing BEER in their basement.
Jim: First seen walking down the street in Lawrenceville, Jim is 96% more bearded than the last time I saw him. On the other hand, so am I.
Beer: First drunk at age 14 at Thanksgiving, Beer has since become a major staple of The Steve Life.
6:30 - Enter MISTER THIRTEEN.
13: I am proud of having christened him with this name, the same under which his article which also appeared on this blog was published in Steel City Revolt.
7:00 - Belvediere's. I remember sitting in this bar on a winter night two years ago with my friend Richie. It was a Wednesday. We were two of the only people there. The bartender, bored or lonely, struck up a conversation with us, eventually inviting us to come back the next day "for our first ever 80's night." I believe the rest is history.
11:00 - Or 10 or 12. Enter some new douchebag friend of Jim and Jay's. These two have a collection of random hangers-on, all of them unpleasant. I don't know this one's name. Probably "Standard Pittsburgh Fucktard."
Standard Pittsburgh Fucktard: Gave us a ride up the hill to the BRILLO BOX. Meanwhile he had a breathalizer in his car, for some reason/because that's the kind of thing a douchebag would have. I blew .11.
The Brillo Box: Epicenter of East End hipsterdom. The scene and source of every major insane event of the last 2 years I lived in Pittsburgh. I knew the two gentleman tending bar rather well, and I suppose they must know me a lot better (since they remember the stuff I do).
Drunk:00 - Pass out.
Day 7
11:00 - Wake up; it feels like 8. Oh, it is 8, but not really. I don't understand time.
1:00 - Finally leave the house; go to OAKLAND.
Oakland: Location of the UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH. My favorite restaurant there is Oishi Bento. I walked in; found it over-crowded; walked out realizing I wouldn't be comfortable unless I had a book to read. So I went to the campus Book Center and bought a collection of classic weird fiction (each story with an intro by H.P. Lovecraft!), thinking I could also make a gift of it for my hosts.
The University of Pittsburgh: Location of 5 years of idleness; source of thousands of dollars of debt.
4:00 - I had early called my friend MEGAN and invited her to lunch with me, but she said, "No Steve, there is a blizzard approaching, you should leave Oakland and come back to Lawrenceville before 6."
Megan: Anthropology grad student at the University of Pittsburgh; when I met her for coffee she brought me a scarf made in the Himalayas, presumably purchased on her recent trip to India. It was cold and I was grateful. One month later, I keep forgetting I own it until I go out the door in the morning and think "Man I wish I had a scarf."
6:00 - Megan and I went back to the Brillo Box and ordered dinner. My brother JIMMY and his girlfriend turned up.
Jimmy: 14 feet tall but still a little shit. Lately he has let his hair grow out, having no money to pay a barber. It was commented by others that he looks like me. I denied it. To demonstrate that it was true, he pulled his hair back from his face and scowled.
6:00-2:00: 8 hours of the fucking Brillo Box. After Jimmy, CURT arrived. It was an interesting combination. Megan said she had to go home because she had no money. I said No, stay and I will buy you drinks. 13 turned up. RYAN and BEAUREGARD turned up. LAUREN turned up. This is why I spent so much time at this bar: EVERYBODY ALWAYS TURNS UP. Jay turned up. IAN turned up. Jim turned up, I think. Let's examine some of these characters.
Curt: Delightful artist and longtime friend; the only person I know who is karmically in the black. Curt is one of my favorites.
Ryan: Only speaks in rants. In the past he, Richie and I spent a great deal of time playing Rummy and watching Bruce Springsteen live in London in 1975.
Beauregard: Ryan's current roommate; also works with Curt at a gallery downtown. Coincidences like that happen frequently in Pittsburgh. I call them Pittsburgh Moments.
I cannot handle writing anymore right now. Therefore I am going to post this as is. Still to come: Rummy; Black Velvet; and the Trinitarian Heresy. Join us next time.
Day 6: In Pittsburgh
5:00 - Arrival at the Pittsburgh airport. Waiting to pick me up was JAY.
Jay: First seen at the airport terminal, bearded and carrying a copy of the Koran. Fortunately my plane was early, so he didn't have enough time to get arrested.
5:30 - There is no better entrance to a city than the Fort Pitt tunnel.
6:00 - So there's this beer called ichor by some brewer I've never heard of. The old Italian guy that runs Grazziano's pizza place apparently got a bunch in and is selling them for cheap. Hello delicious. Also, Jay and JIM are brewing BEER in their basement.
Jim: First seen walking down the street in Lawrenceville, Jim is 96% more bearded than the last time I saw him. On the other hand, so am I.
Beer: First drunk at age 14 at Thanksgiving, Beer has since become a major staple of The Steve Life.
6:30 - Enter MISTER THIRTEEN.
13: I am proud of having christened him with this name, the same under which his article which also appeared on this blog was published in Steel City Revolt.
7:00 - Belvediere's. I remember sitting in this bar on a winter night two years ago with my friend Richie. It was a Wednesday. We were two of the only people there. The bartender, bored or lonely, struck up a conversation with us, eventually inviting us to come back the next day "for our first ever 80's night." I believe the rest is history.
11:00 - Or 10 or 12. Enter some new douchebag friend of Jim and Jay's. These two have a collection of random hangers-on, all of them unpleasant. I don't know this one's name. Probably "Standard Pittsburgh Fucktard."
Standard Pittsburgh Fucktard: Gave us a ride up the hill to the BRILLO BOX. Meanwhile he had a breathalizer in his car, for some reason/because that's the kind of thing a douchebag would have. I blew .11.
The Brillo Box: Epicenter of East End hipsterdom. The scene and source of every major insane event of the last 2 years I lived in Pittsburgh. I knew the two gentleman tending bar rather well, and I suppose they must know me a lot better (since they remember the stuff I do).
Drunk:00 - Pass out.
Day 7
11:00 - Wake up; it feels like 8. Oh, it is 8, but not really. I don't understand time.
1:00 - Finally leave the house; go to OAKLAND.
Oakland: Location of the UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH. My favorite restaurant there is Oishi Bento. I walked in; found it over-crowded; walked out realizing I wouldn't be comfortable unless I had a book to read. So I went to the campus Book Center and bought a collection of classic weird fiction (each story with an intro by H.P. Lovecraft!), thinking I could also make a gift of it for my hosts.
The University of Pittsburgh: Location of 5 years of idleness; source of thousands of dollars of debt.
4:00 - I had early called my friend MEGAN and invited her to lunch with me, but she said, "No Steve, there is a blizzard approaching, you should leave Oakland and come back to Lawrenceville before 6."
Megan: Anthropology grad student at the University of Pittsburgh; when I met her for coffee she brought me a scarf made in the Himalayas, presumably purchased on her recent trip to India. It was cold and I was grateful. One month later, I keep forgetting I own it until I go out the door in the morning and think "Man I wish I had a scarf."
6:00 - Megan and I went back to the Brillo Box and ordered dinner. My brother JIMMY and his girlfriend turned up.
Jimmy: 14 feet tall but still a little shit. Lately he has let his hair grow out, having no money to pay a barber. It was commented by others that he looks like me. I denied it. To demonstrate that it was true, he pulled his hair back from his face and scowled.
6:00-2:00: 8 hours of the fucking Brillo Box. After Jimmy, CURT arrived. It was an interesting combination. Megan said she had to go home because she had no money. I said No, stay and I will buy you drinks. 13 turned up. RYAN and BEAUREGARD turned up. LAUREN turned up. This is why I spent so much time at this bar: EVERYBODY ALWAYS TURNS UP. Jay turned up. IAN turned up. Jim turned up, I think. Let's examine some of these characters.
Curt: Delightful artist and longtime friend; the only person I know who is karmically in the black. Curt is one of my favorites.
Ryan: Only speaks in rants. In the past he, Richie and I spent a great deal of time playing Rummy and watching Bruce Springsteen live in London in 1975.
Beauregard: Ryan's current roommate; also works with Curt at a gallery downtown. Coincidences like that happen frequently in Pittsburgh. I call them Pittsburgh Moments.
I cannot handle writing anymore right now. Therefore I am going to post this as is. Still to come: Rummy; Black Velvet; and the Trinitarian Heresy. Join us next time.
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Call of Cthulhu
So that readers named Gabe will be able to make an informed judgment of the previous post, here is a link to the full text of The Call of Cthulhu by H.P. Lovecraft.
I. The Horror In Clay
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age....
Friday, December 12, 2008
The Road Goes Ever On and On
Day 6: To Pittsburgh
On the plane I read Gene Wolfe's new book An Evil Guest. Gene Wolfe is my favorite science fiction author and this book was hyped as a 30's-style Lovecraftian pulp horror story set in the future with other planets, wizards, and Cthulhu. As you can imagine, I was pretty psyched to read it.
Unfortunately, it mostly sucks.
The main character is a woman. That would be fine, even a really cool opportunity to mess with the tropes of 30's pulp fiction, but Wolfe apparently decided to import his value system directly from 1933 as well. So she mostly cries and is pretty.
Even that would be fine. It's obnoxious, but I know plenty of women who spend a lot of their time crying and being pretty. But then almost every single sentence in the entire book is dialogue, and it reads mostly like this:
"I have two questions. Wait, make that three."
"Okay, I'll try and answer them."
Invariably, only the first question is answered, and only sort of, before it's time for the next chapter.
Of course the plot doesn't make sense. The genius of Gene Wolfe is that his plots are buried pretty deep and almost never really make sense until you read the book again three or four times. Meanwhile on the surface there is enough interesting stuff going on to keep you entertained, and enough hints of the real story to force you to read the thing again. This is even true of his short stories, which is impressive and really difficult to pull off. The problem with An Evil Guest is that the on-the-surface story is not remotely interesting, and you never get enough of the real story lurking beneath.
When you do it's awesome. One chapter shows us a Cthulhu-cultist's journey to R'lyeh, where, of course, the dead god waits dreaming, and it's so freaking cool you want to crap your pants. And then another time a character talks about how there are all kinds of aliens on our world, but they never reveal themselves to us. And then he compares it the other planet in the book, Woldercan, which humans have visited and instead of lurking in shadows and swamps and ruined mansions in New England they've set up an embassy and diplomatic relations. Why isn't it like that here? Well, he explains, the difference is that Cthulhu is really the ruler of our world and he claims it as his private fiefdom or farmyard.
!!!! Holy freaking crap, right?? Unfortunately I just ruined the whole book for you because those are the only cool parts. Then I realized that I'd written a book review instead of a blog post about my trip to Pittsburgh so I got mad and posted it anyway.
On the plane I read Gene Wolfe's new book An Evil Guest. Gene Wolfe is my favorite science fiction author and this book was hyped as a 30's-style Lovecraftian pulp horror story set in the future with other planets, wizards, and Cthulhu. As you can imagine, I was pretty psyched to read it.
Unfortunately, it mostly sucks.
The main character is a woman. That would be fine, even a really cool opportunity to mess with the tropes of 30's pulp fiction, but Wolfe apparently decided to import his value system directly from 1933 as well. So she mostly cries and is pretty.
Even that would be fine. It's obnoxious, but I know plenty of women who spend a lot of their time crying and being pretty. But then almost every single sentence in the entire book is dialogue, and it reads mostly like this:
"I have two questions. Wait, make that three."
"Okay, I'll try and answer them."
Invariably, only the first question is answered, and only sort of, before it's time for the next chapter.
Of course the plot doesn't make sense. The genius of Gene Wolfe is that his plots are buried pretty deep and almost never really make sense until you read the book again three or four times. Meanwhile on the surface there is enough interesting stuff going on to keep you entertained, and enough hints of the real story to force you to read the thing again. This is even true of his short stories, which is impressive and really difficult to pull off. The problem with An Evil Guest is that the on-the-surface story is not remotely interesting, and you never get enough of the real story lurking beneath.
When you do it's awesome. One chapter shows us a Cthulhu-cultist's journey to R'lyeh, where, of course, the dead god waits dreaming, and it's so freaking cool you want to crap your pants. And then another time a character talks about how there are all kinds of aliens on our world, but they never reveal themselves to us. And then he compares it the other planet in the book, Woldercan, which humans have visited and instead of lurking in shadows and swamps and ruined mansions in New England they've set up an embassy and diplomatic relations. Why isn't it like that here? Well, he explains, the difference is that Cthulhu is really the ruler of our world and he claims it as his private fiefdom or farmyard.
!!!! Holy freaking crap, right?? Unfortunately I just ruined the whole book for you because those are the only cool parts. Then I realized that I'd written a book review instead of a blog post about my trip to Pittsburgh so I got mad and posted it anyway.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Still More Road Trip
Day 5:
That day we woke up in Santa Barbara, which was totally new. Sarah was at work building an airbase. I wanted to leave her house quickly because her roommates are weird and I think they make more money than me.
Sarah left $20 and a hand-drawn map of the area on her bathroom sink. It was a sweet gesture and I laughed.
The plan for this day was to get breakfast at a nearby bakery, spend a few hours on the beach, and be on the road to Los Angeles by 1 or so. Unfortunately, there is a bookstore beside the bakery in Santa Barbara. By the time we emerged it was after 1:00. We were sad about missing the beach, but there was nothing for it but to hit the road.
Glendale (a chunk of Los Angeles or suburb or something) is only an hour or two south of Santa Barbara. We should have made good time, and been at April's place in time to cook dinner. Fortunately, Kat and I both have Attention Deficit Disorder.
We'd been driving an hour or something when we saw the beach. It cost $7 to park, but there was no one working. We pulled in, and ran down to the water.
Beaches hold a special significance for me. As a child, we spent our summers in Ocean City, a resort town in Maryland. 12-15 of us would pack into a 3 bedroom condo (Don't run the air conditioning! Do you know how much the electric bill is!) (Close the damn door, the air conditioning is on!) for 3 months. During the day we children were taken to the beach at 9:00 and ignored until 5. Protestations such as "I'm bored," "It's too hot," "Can we get an umbrella," and "I have sunstroke" were generally met with rage. In such circumstances, children learn to entertain themselves, and I am grateful to my family for my ability to tolerate any level of boredome provided I can sit in the shade.
Also, Kat's and my relationship began on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, in a lovely scene recounted at Gabe's blog some time ago.
This beach was pretty awesome, but I'm getting tired of typing. It's 4:19 and I have stuff to finish before 5:00. What follows is the abridged version of the next 12 hours, reconstructed, as always, from a somewhat faulty memory.
2:00 - We got to the beach.
2:30 - Extended oceanside makeout scene.
3:00 - Back on the road.
3:15 - Lost. How the hell did we get to Ventura?
3:30 - Since we're in Ventura, we might as well go exploring.
3:45 - This coffee is really good. Oh and look, an alt weekly paper with Free Will Astrology!
4:30 - How the hell do you get out of Ventura?
5:30 - Okay, I think this is Glendale.
6:00 - Reunion Scene. New character: April.
April: An old friend of Kat's; currently living in Glendale, California. When we arrived Misty (see: Day 3) was staying with her. Upon realizing that they were all in the same geographic location, all 3 women promptly went insane.
6:30 - Visit to supermarket. Women continue acting crazy. Steve* buys himself a sixpack of pumpkin beer.
7:00 - Steve and women cook food. Women continue to act insane. Steve starts drinking.
7:30 - Women were in African-dancing-and-drumming group together in college. Reunion prompts reminiscing, dancing, video-watching.
7:30-9:30 - Extended dance scene. (Steve continues drinking.)
9:30-11:30 - (Alcoholic blur.)
11:30-3:00 - Sleep.
3:00 - Wake, drive to airport.
3:15 - With no cars out, the 20-lane highway to LAX looks like the Coruscant scenes from Star Wars. Steve, riding in the back seat, comments on this. No one notices.
3:30 - It's a good thing we got to the airport three hours ahead of time. What do you want to do now?
3:35 - Okay that woman has a cup of coffee. Where the hell did she get it?
3:45 - Thank God for Starbucks.
4:00 - What do you want to do now?
* Kat
That day we woke up in Santa Barbara, which was totally new. Sarah was at work building an airbase. I wanted to leave her house quickly because her roommates are weird and I think they make more money than me.
Sarah left $20 and a hand-drawn map of the area on her bathroom sink. It was a sweet gesture and I laughed.
The plan for this day was to get breakfast at a nearby bakery, spend a few hours on the beach, and be on the road to Los Angeles by 1 or so. Unfortunately, there is a bookstore beside the bakery in Santa Barbara. By the time we emerged it was after 1:00. We were sad about missing the beach, but there was nothing for it but to hit the road.
Glendale (a chunk of Los Angeles or suburb or something) is only an hour or two south of Santa Barbara. We should have made good time, and been at April's place in time to cook dinner. Fortunately, Kat and I both have Attention Deficit Disorder.
We'd been driving an hour or something when we saw the beach. It cost $7 to park, but there was no one working. We pulled in, and ran down to the water.
Beaches hold a special significance for me. As a child, we spent our summers in Ocean City, a resort town in Maryland. 12-15 of us would pack into a 3 bedroom condo (Don't run the air conditioning! Do you know how much the electric bill is!) (Close the damn door, the air conditioning is on!) for 3 months. During the day we children were taken to the beach at 9:00 and ignored until 5. Protestations such as "I'm bored," "It's too hot," "Can we get an umbrella," and "I have sunstroke" were generally met with rage. In such circumstances, children learn to entertain themselves, and I am grateful to my family for my ability to tolerate any level of boredome provided I can sit in the shade.
Also, Kat's and my relationship began on the shore of the Pacific Ocean, in a lovely scene recounted at Gabe's blog some time ago.
This beach was pretty awesome, but I'm getting tired of typing. It's 4:19 and I have stuff to finish before 5:00. What follows is the abridged version of the next 12 hours, reconstructed, as always, from a somewhat faulty memory.
2:00 - We got to the beach.
2:30 - Extended oceanside makeout scene.
3:00 - Back on the road.
3:15 - Lost. How the hell did we get to Ventura?
3:30 - Since we're in Ventura, we might as well go exploring.
3:45 - This coffee is really good. Oh and look, an alt weekly paper with Free Will Astrology!
4:30 - How the hell do you get out of Ventura?
5:30 - Okay, I think this is Glendale.
6:00 - Reunion Scene. New character: April.
April: An old friend of Kat's; currently living in Glendale, California. When we arrived Misty (see: Day 3) was staying with her. Upon realizing that they were all in the same geographic location, all 3 women promptly went insane.
6:30 - Visit to supermarket. Women continue acting crazy. Steve* buys himself a sixpack of pumpkin beer.
7:00 - Steve and women cook food. Women continue to act insane. Steve starts drinking.
7:30 - Women were in African-dancing-and-drumming group together in college. Reunion prompts reminiscing, dancing, video-watching.
7:30-9:30 - Extended dance scene. (Steve continues drinking.)
9:30-11:30 - (Alcoholic blur.)
11:30-3:00 - Sleep.
3:00 - Wake, drive to airport.
3:15 - With no cars out, the 20-lane highway to LAX looks like the Coruscant scenes from Star Wars. Steve, riding in the back seat, comments on this. No one notices.
3:30 - It's a good thing we got to the airport three hours ahead of time. What do you want to do now?
3:35 - Okay that woman has a cup of coffee. Where the hell did she get it?
3:45 - Thank God for Starbucks.
4:00 - What do you want to do now?
* Kat
More Road Trip
Day 4:
Unfortunately, it's been two weeks, so I've forgotten a lot of the details. Fortunately, my $50,000 creative writing degree will allow me to fill in the gaps by making shit up.
So, when we left me, I was in San Francisco, and I'd just passed out because it was late and I was drunk. Oh, and I'd spent all of Kat's money. The next morning I woke up in San Francisco, but I'd already done that before.
I said to Kat, "Go into my wallet and take out all the money I owe you. I don't want to see it or know how much it is."
She did so. We went downstairs and checked out of the hostel. I remembered that the day before when we went downstairs the song Piazza, New York Catcher by Belle and Sebastian had been playing in the lobby, and that seemed significant because it was Track 1 on a mix we'd been listening to.
1. Belle and Sebastian - Piazza, New York Catcher
2. The Replacements - Waitress in the Sky
3. The Clash - Spanish Bombs
4. The Decemberists - Leslie Anne Levine
I'm not sure how it goes from there. It was a well-rendered mix with smooth transitions and Fleet Foxes, and served us well through southern California.
So anyway we spent all that day driving Highway 101 from San Francisco to Santa Barbara. I drove most of this and it was the most driving I'd ever done in my life; also, I didn't almost kill us even once.
The next 400 miles are a blur. I drove and Kat did something else. Then we were in Santa Barbara, and my aunt Sarah lived in a cul de sac. She criticized me for smoking, tried to park Kat's car closer to the curb, and felt really guilty for not buying us dinner when we went out for food&drinks.
Sarah: The second character we meet on the road; the first not named after a weather pattern. She is 31 and a retired Air Force captain. She was in Iraq for 6 months building an airbase or something and the first thing she did when I arrived was show me her marathon, triathlon, and Iron Man medals. We grew up together in my grandparents' house in Pennsylvania. We did not get along.
Later I was drunk again and we all went to sleep. Fifty thousand dollars well spent.
Unfortunately, it's been two weeks, so I've forgotten a lot of the details. Fortunately, my $50,000 creative writing degree will allow me to fill in the gaps by making shit up.
So, when we left me, I was in San Francisco, and I'd just passed out because it was late and I was drunk. Oh, and I'd spent all of Kat's money. The next morning I woke up in San Francisco, but I'd already done that before.
I said to Kat, "Go into my wallet and take out all the money I owe you. I don't want to see it or know how much it is."
She did so. We went downstairs and checked out of the hostel. I remembered that the day before when we went downstairs the song Piazza, New York Catcher by Belle and Sebastian had been playing in the lobby, and that seemed significant because it was Track 1 on a mix we'd been listening to.
1. Belle and Sebastian - Piazza, New York Catcher
2. The Replacements - Waitress in the Sky
3. The Clash - Spanish Bombs
4. The Decemberists - Leslie Anne Levine
I'm not sure how it goes from there. It was a well-rendered mix with smooth transitions and Fleet Foxes, and served us well through southern California.
So anyway we spent all that day driving Highway 101 from San Francisco to Santa Barbara. I drove most of this and it was the most driving I'd ever done in my life; also, I didn't almost kill us even once.
The next 400 miles are a blur. I drove and Kat did something else. Then we were in Santa Barbara, and my aunt Sarah lived in a cul de sac. She criticized me for smoking, tried to park Kat's car closer to the curb, and felt really guilty for not buying us dinner when we went out for food&drinks.
Sarah: The second character we meet on the road; the first not named after a weather pattern. She is 31 and a retired Air Force captain. She was in Iraq for 6 months building an airbase or something and the first thing she did when I arrived was show me her marathon, triathlon, and Iron Man medals. We grew up together in my grandparents' house in Pennsylvania. We did not get along.
Later I was drunk again and we all went to sleep. Fifty thousand dollars well spent.
December!?
And how is it already the tenth and I haven't posted even once yet, not even to continue my story of the Road Trip?
How terrible. I shall therefore continue this very day with Road Trip, Part 4.
How terrible. I shall therefore continue this very day with Road Trip, Part 4.
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