it was electric, so frantically hectic

My cat Joe caught a flying squirrel last night and brought it inside, still alive. I must say I was pretty excited, but it got loose, found the still-open door and escaped before I could ask it to watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat. And what a great anecdote that would have been…

The main problem with consuming nine or ten pints of beer each and every night to drown your sorrows and forget your problems is, by mid-morning you’re sober again. And mid-morning, as luck would have it, is exactly when the problems that cause your drinking begin anew. Fuck you, Jesus, and your cruel sense of irony.

But everything’s going to be all right. Why? That’s right:

Because Nuno.

Nu-fucking-no.

Right?

Right.