A Good Year

When people talk about enjoying a nice cold beer or a glass of wine with dinner, I really have no fucking clue what the hell they’re talking about. Being sober, what I really miss about alcohol is getting so shitfaced that I come to the next day wedged under my sofa with a bunch of cracked knuckles. I’m not joking either; that shit was a lovely vintage.

3 thoughts on “A Good Year

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