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PARTY IN THE BACK, MOTHERFUCKERS
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I doubt they're going to have much luck replacing the term "owner" unless they also manage to replace the laws that make pets property.

That being said, I don't really own my cat Shit Piece. He just kind of showed up one day and decided to move in with me. You know, his choice. And he tries to pay for the room and board by bringing me dead rats on occasion, so it's all good. I figure if I ever make him move to a different apartment with me, then I can say I'm his owner, but for now he's just a squatter at my place whose vet bills I pay because I'm charitable like that.

now who wants to hear about my allergies? )
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I doubt they're going to have much luck replacing the term "owner" unless they also manage to replace the laws that make pets property.

That being said, I don't really own my cat Shit Piece. He just kind of showed up one day and decided to move in with me. You know, his choice. And he tries to pay for the room and board by bringing me dead rats on occasion, so it's all good. I figure if I ever make him move to a different apartment with me, then I can say I'm his owner, but for now he's just a squatter at my place whose vet bills I pay because I'm charitable like that.

now who wants to hear about my allergies? )
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Dude, I would hang out with Odysseus, because he's fucking awesome. We could just steal a car and drive around having adventures, get drunk, go up to North Austin and shoot some of those wild boar they've got, disguise ourselves and crash a party, start a brawl at the party, get drunk some more, put someone's eye out, capsize a few canoes in Town Lake...

Yeah. I don't know why, but I've always had this mental image of Odysseus as a hooligan. I think he'd be awesome to hang out with.

Now I want to go through all the answers to this writer's block and see just how many people say "the Doctor."

more blah blah blah )
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Dude, I would hang out with Odysseus, because he's fucking awesome. We could just steal a car and drive around having adventures, get drunk, go up to North Austin and shoot some of those wild boar they've got, disguise ourselves and crash a party, start a brawl at the party, get drunk some more, put someone's eye out, capsize a few canoes in Town Lake...

Yeah. I don't know why, but I've always had this mental image of Odysseus as a hooligan. I think he'd be awesome to hang out with.

Now I want to go through all the answers to this writer's block and see just how many people say "the Doctor."

more blah blah blah )
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When I was a kid, I hated drinking out of aluminum cans because I thought the little tab that gets pushed down into the can might come loose and I would accidentally swallow it. Other than that, though, I was fucking fearless.

My brother, on the other hand, was (and still is) afraid of spiders. Oh my god, I used to LMFAO at him for that.
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When I was a kid, I hated drinking out of aluminum cans because I thought the little tab that gets pushed down into the can might come loose and I would accidentally swallow it. Other than that, though, I was fucking fearless.

My brother, on the other hand, was (and still is) afraid of spiders. Oh my god, I used to LMFAO at him for that.
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When I was twelve, I wanted to run a criminal organization when I grew up. Yes, I think I would be pretty disappointed.
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When I was twelve, I wanted to run a criminal organization when I grew up. Yes, I think I would be pretty disappointed.
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read more )
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read more )
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I guess it might depend on the catastrophe, but I would almost certainly bring at least one of my guns and all my ammo. After that, roughly in order, I would go for my cat, my laptop and camera, a few important pieces of artwork, and clothes.

If I had any vodka in the freezer, I'd probably grab that on my way out, as well.
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I guess it might depend on the catastrophe, but I would almost certainly bring at least one of my guns and all my ammo. After that, roughly in order, I would go for my cat, my laptop and camera, a few important pieces of artwork, and clothes.

If I had any vodka in the freezer, I'd probably grab that on my way out, as well.
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A precision display of bad temper.
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A precision display of bad temper.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]I don't know about best advice, but the worst was when I was about 14, and my mother (a health care professional) tried to convince me to get breast reduction surgery, ostensibly because I would be "a hunchback" by the time I turned thirty if I didn't, but in fact, as she later confessed in a drunken stupor, because it "wasn't fair" that I'd gotten the big boobie genes and she hadn't.

I wasn't easily manipulated and knew that people generally don't get breast reductions at fourteen except in extreme circumstances, so I told her exactly where she could shove it. Fifteen years later, and guess who isn't a hunchback.

I will NEVER get sick of giving my mother shit about that.
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[Error: unknown template qotd]I don't know about best advice, but the worst was when I was about 14, and my mother (a health care professional) tried to convince me to get breast reduction surgery, ostensibly because I would be "a hunchback" by the time I turned thirty if I didn't, but in fact, as she later confessed in a drunken stupor, because it "wasn't fair" that I'd gotten the big boobie genes and she hadn't.

I wasn't easily manipulated and knew that people generally don't get breast reductions at fourteen except in extreme circumstances, so I told her exactly where she could shove it. Fifteen years later, and guess who isn't a hunchback.

I will NEVER get sick of giving my mother shit about that.
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So, I worked as a bartender for seven years, and to be honest, most of what I saw was just funny. We used to entertain ourselves by over-serving the fuck out of people, letting fights go on, that kind of thing. My bar was in a really sketchy neighborhood, kind of a hot spot for drug dealers and crack whores and near where a big crew of homeless people would camp out, so we got an interesting mix of clientele. That whole time, the only alcohol/drug related incident that was "scary" to me was when one of the musicians in the band we had on a night that I worked died of a combination of alcohol poisoning and cocaine after leaving the bar. Uh-oh!

I hadn't served him, and it turned out the other two bartenders that night hadn't either. More or less. He'd arrived at the bar already fucked up and had his own bottle of Jack with him there, according to his band mates. But there was this moment of "Oh shit I killed someone."

Didn't change me at all.

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