Dudes, King Tonga died.
I mean, not my buddy King Tonga, but the real King Tonga.
The King is dead. Long live the King. Little brown girls for everyone. I already got mine.
Fuck.
Nope, Not Dead Yet
A Couple of Things
#1 - I just found a note, in my handwriting, on the back of a receipt, from June, which reads “Nothing says love like a smack to the back of the head.”
#2 - I had a very nice time last night with the new girl. A first date with me usually includes the following information:
- I’m a recovering drug addict;
- I’m a convicted felon;
- I have liver disease which, though being treated, can be fatal; and,
- I’m in the middle of the eighth month of twelve months of chemotherapy and I may or may not be a complete psychopath at any time.
You see, I just throw all this stuff out there right at the very beginning and, if they’re still there when the dust settles, then I figure they’re sick enough for me.
#1 and #2 may or may not be related. I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
We Was Robbed
So we finished a four week jury trial on Friday.
The jury deliberated for less than two hours.
We lost.
The Disco Before the Breakdown, Part I
If I beat this treatment thing, you fuckers can start calling me Rasputin.
