Ronald McDonald’s victory is complete. The last Gobblin is gone, found floating down
an open sewer a canal.
So I was at my brother’s wedding. He cleans up pretty nice. Or it was my kid’s wedding. It seems like it switched. The part where my broke ass dad hired a Lamborghini prototype in a camouflage wrap and cladding was cool, as it drifted past the reception.
and life on earth (or maybe not, not that I read the lyrics)
That’s it. Goddammit, that’s it. NO ONE does that. Says that. Thinks that. And remains.
It’s not nostalgia, it’s deja vu.
The War Council is disbanded. – Me, after a frank and refreshing talk with the ex-Mrs.
It’s really true EVERYTHING in life has a Star Trek analogue. Especially if you include the clunky TOS first season.
The important thing to remember about ex-wives is that you divorced their ass for a reason. By all means be civil, but that new her is still based on the old her. Don’t be fooled by the attractive package. – Me, after a surprisingly cordial crossing of paths.
UPDATE: It’s worth it to have an actual two sided conversation. There is much to learn, genius boy. Perhaps one listened to bad advice instead of opening a dialog. Perhaps one should have gone with one’s gut, rather than the reflex of the war council.