Hate & Ashcroft burying
My wonderful fourth of July began with me awakening at the crack of noon, and ended with my attempts to comfort Sugar, who believed the world was ending with the rockets red glare and the fireworks fuckin’ bursting in the air outside at night. It was nice to have that one day to sort of break up the week, and get in some extra sleep, sho’ ’nuff.
All it took was the movie "Trainspotting" to keep me far, far away from heroin.
"Afoul" is such a great word that you rarely get a chance to use.
Why is it "dressed to the nines" and not "dressed to the tens"?
