in the words of Miss Sarah, a fine young lady

I've decided that this whole no smoking in public places nonsense is a vegan hippie plot to take over the country. See, it works like this. They kick us outside to smoke in the winter. Our weakened lungs succumb to pneumonia and we all die. Then they take over and rename the place The United States of PETA and live happily in their utopia, which is subsequently over populated by cows and other tasty wildlife. But they don't care because they love cows and cows make them happy. In the meantime, I'm freezing my ass off and praying that the newly rejuvenated effort to ban smoking in all public places doesn't take hold. I've already lost my coffee shop. I don't want to lose my entire social life.

Vegan hippies make me want to eat lots of steak. Better, veal. Smothered in eggs. Wrapped in bacon. Garnished with non-dolphin safe tuna. And served on a leather coat. Just out of spite.

I couldn't agree more. Bwahahahaha.

I do hope Miss Sarah will not be offended if I take liberties and quote her in my journal. She is a most forthright and nice young lady, in the parlance of the 18th century. Reading her post this morning dispelled the gloom of my nightmares.

not my damned day

So Alan was involved in some kind of car accident. He's okay and he says it wasn't his fault but he's not home yet. I don't know what happened yet.

edit Some fucktard in a truck nearly smashed into Alan, who had to swerve. Several other cars swerved around and crashed into each other. Totally the fault of truck driving fucktard. No serious injuries. Alan's okay, car's okay. Did I mention we don't have health insurance right now?

We owe the IRS $1400 that we don't fucking have because fucking Flood didn't hold enough out of our checks.

It's ironic, I was just telling my therapist that things were getting better. Ha.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.