I’ve been eating a lot of stir-fry veggies these days (mostly because it’s easy, and I may not be cheap, but I’m definitely easy). That, and the rather copious amounts of Cascazilla red ale I’ve been consuming since they jacked up the price of Hop Devil, means I can pretty much fart on demand (not wimpy farts, either, but knock-the-buzzard-off-a-shit-wagon, peel-the-wallpaper-off-the-wall farts that even the dogs run away from). If Captain Richard Phillips ate stir fry and drank beer, this whole goddamn hostage thing would have been over days ago (the pirates would be begging the US Navy to throw them in the brig).

It comes in pretty handy at the store when those pushy goddamn women seem intent on shoving their grocery carts up my ass. I also like to pause and leave a little something behind for those people that feel compelled to catch up on old times with their long lost friends in the middle of the goddamn aisle while the rest of us are just trying to pick up beer and veggies and get home.

It never ceases to amaze me that it apparently has never dawned on so many of these idiots that there are actually other people in the world. Sure, but run them over with your shopping basket, and you’re the asshole.