Milkshakes from the cosmos! Or something like that. That's what I wanted my small business to be like. But this putrid fucking recession! Quit smoking. 43 days. You're goddam right I'm proud--not just anyone, that's for sure! Yeah my kid's joining the army. Can't stop him. I bought him season's tickets to the Donut Holes his whole damn life. Sure they ain't no Kan-zass Cit-tee Roy-als, but they play some sure as shit baseball, that's all I know. He hit that girl last summer, and things ain't been working out for him ever since. Yeah, sure I told him to cool his temper, but I did buy him all those mixed martial arts classes when he was an ajolessent. Guess I am partly to blame there. But holy shit--I forgot to tell yeh! Got the Monte Carlo back--woo! That's right, impound called me this morning, cut the boot and all! 43 Days, shoot! No whiskey, neither.

Damn, I know it. He'll be alright over there in Iranistan. You ain't got to tell me. 43 days aint shit.