Let's just say my life doesn't revolve around 3 a.m. feedings, my mans screaming, "But I own this trailer!" as he throws whiskey bottles through our corn husk drapes, and making sweet love behind Old Man Pumpernickel's marijuana patch during Sunday church services.
Thursday, September 11, 2003
Oh yeah, Sept. 11. RIP victims of terrorism. Even the ones who worked for corporate giants, and ate the common man for breakfast. RIP them too.