1. After cracking open that wine and cleaning up all of the splatters on my desk (there are stains like, all over my bulletin board. I've got this glorious picture of Burt Ward and Adam West up there and now it's all speckled. Lame.) me and the Smooth Criminal had a glass (and by "a" I mean "several" and by "glass" I mean "dixie cup"), but we did not finish the bottle. Luckily, it occurred to us that we might get in trouble if we left an open, half empty (half full?) bottle of Chianti sitting on my desk with a cork floating sheepishly around within.
So I resolved to take the wine home. Grabbed a rubber glove from the cleaning supplies, wrapped it around the mouth of the bottle and rubberbanded the fuck out of it. I now had a to-go container. Take that, bus.
2. So I get home, change into some comfy pants and start making dinner and finishing that bottle, when MoLinder comes home all pissy, so I let her take my car to go buy booze.
3. While she is pulling out of my rock star parallel parking spot, some jackass backs into the Honda and fucks up my bumper.
4. Fucker drives away. White truck, silver bumper, license plate begins with X. This is all of the information we have. If anyone sees this truck, anywhere, Chicago, Spain, Florida, I don't give a shit, teach that fucker a lesson. Carry around a towel, so you can wrap your fist in it before you punch through his fucking driver's side window.
5. MoLinder buys me a couple of 25 oz Trois Pistoles to make up for it, because she knows it's like, my favorite. Kind of a cliche favorite, I know, but fuck you, it tastes like someone bottled up laughter and fear and called it a beer.
6. We get fucking hammered and watch Max Payne, which was really, really not that good, but I really don't care because I love all things Wahlberg.
7. If anyone has any quarters, I call dibbs, because I really need to do laundry.
8. Oh, and I was asked to write a review for Ask And Ye Shall Receive, if anyone wants to check it out. The links within the review are all screwy though, I think.