Mr. Scrooby says, "I'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach has been disconnected."
So, uh, ugh.
P, Ails: I'm sorry I didn't make it to the party. I had something to deal with, at home. But I'll make sure to come around with a house-warming present soon and check it all out, and meet Eyanna and all that stuff, promise. I want to meet Vlad, too.
In other news that isn't my lameness and lack of making it to parties, I've been having some pretty awesome conversations lately that've put me in a relative good mood. You don't often find people with whom you can speak to, give advice to (solicited or un-) and have that very interaction makes you feel better, yourself.
Topic for the week is "mistakes", with sub-categories in "doing stupid shit". I've said it twice in the last two weeks, but it bears repeating in a more permanent place: my gramps and I have this saying, "If you take one absurdly stupid risk once a year, you'll feel like a genius the other 364 days". It's this type of thinking that has led to my running with the bulls and picking fights with entire hockey teams, of course.
I tend to let people make their own mistakes. I make mine all the time; I make at least one a day, and do something really fucking stupid once a year. I'll let people know I think they are making one, if I do, but I don't condemn them for it. It's like judging a zebra for having hooves, you know? You're not even poking at something unique to the species.
I also somehow ended up discussing how my mom used to dose me with saltpeter in an attempt to quell my libido while I was dating a certain kike we all know and love.
P, Ails: I'm sorry I didn't make it to the party. I had something to deal with, at home. But I'll make sure to come around with a house-warming present soon and check it all out, and meet Eyanna and all that stuff, promise. I want to meet Vlad, too.
In other news that isn't my lameness and lack of making it to parties, I've been having some pretty awesome conversations lately that've put me in a relative good mood. You don't often find people with whom you can speak to, give advice to (solicited or un-) and have that very interaction makes you feel better, yourself.
Topic for the week is "mistakes", with sub-categories in "doing stupid shit". I've said it twice in the last two weeks, but it bears repeating in a more permanent place: my gramps and I have this saying, "If you take one absurdly stupid risk once a year, you'll feel like a genius the other 364 days". It's this type of thinking that has led to my running with the bulls and picking fights with entire hockey teams, of course.
I tend to let people make their own mistakes. I make mine all the time; I make at least one a day, and do something really fucking stupid once a year. I'll let people know I think they are making one, if I do, but I don't condemn them for it. It's like judging a zebra for having hooves, you know? You're not even poking at something unique to the species.
I also somehow ended up discussing how my mom used to dose me with saltpeter in an attempt to quell my libido while I was dating a certain kike we all know and love.