CAVEAT: THIS BLOG CONTAINS (albeit often very childish) ADULT-CONTENT. DISCLAIMER: Entries at this blog are akin to good old-fashioned campfire chats; I offer no opinion on what you should or should not purchase, or what you should be using or doing. What does or does not work for me could be long country-miles away from your tastes and your needs. Any products, places, and / or whatnots that I review for this blog are purchased at retail price by me. I do not accept payment, gifts, discounts, freebies, products on loan, demon alcohol, drugs, plea-bargains, probation, parole, Presidential Pardons, or sexual favors for doing any review. TRACKING COOKIES: Google et al sticks tracking cookies on everybody. If you are online, you are being spied on; 'nuff said. You may be able to minimize your online footprints by using Tor and Duck Duck Go. Vive la liberté! Vive all y'all! Ante omnia armari. To each of you, thanks for stopping by!
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Archive from November 8, 2007
When the foliage turns crimson, and the late evening winds blow cold, a man can fancy the warmth and company provided by a wee pint of rum. Few things can be as excruciating as a rum hangover. Sorrowfully, that truth needs confirmation every now and again. I’m not sure why I need to do it; it should be an easy lesson to remember. I recall waking one morning with a dreadful, ear-splitting headache. Still cannot remember what her name was or where it was we met.