*cocks magnet gun*
FIRE!
*whizzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzTHOCK*
“You sir, are an idiot. Further, I am fairly certain – given the way you drive – that you have absolutely no balls and a spine made of the finest vanilla pudding. Please get off the road so that other *drivers* can get one with their commutes.”
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Lordy. I should know by now that accepting drinks made by Michael is tantamount to saying, “Why, yes! I *would* like to be out late and have a nasty hangover the following morning!” OTOH, them were some tasty white Russians. nom nom OW nom….
I will post more of substance here in a bit. Have some actual work-type stuff that I must do.