Be A Fucking Contender
The most hysterical thing just happened to me, which I can't go into here, but it so neatly parallels a scene in Chapter 13 of The Horses of Achilles that no one would believe the writing came first.
Nice to know my instincts are correct.
On another note, earlier the spouse brought home a carton of ice cream. I won't touch it. He also brought home a bag of chips. I did touch it. I won't touch it again. Why should I let this stuff stand in the way of what I want?
*sigh*