So same old, same old.
I got very close today. The pistol was right in my mouth, safety off, ready to go.
The the phone rang, wrong number.
There's damn all to do round here when it's not Christmas, I've just been humping the life out of Mrs. Claus. You'd think we would learn to use condoms after number 36, but hey, dad lasted 77 years before killing the family, except me, because I looked like one of the elves.
Still, I'm getting closer to the fateful day. The newest wife is still hot like, but after Christmas put on a few pounds, I know I'm not one to be talking, but like, jees, have some pride. I'm ment to be fat. Anyway, what I lack in willpower against food, I make up for in the size of my rod.
Happy, shitty weather...