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Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)

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I feel like I should be dreading something... [Nov. 1st, 2004|08:29 pm]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
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[Current Mood |Go ahead -- jump]
[Current Music |Movin' to the rythm of the Buckarettes (they ride the range so well)]

The last drop of gas has been burned. The engines sputtered out a few minutes ago. The air rushes almost silently over the fuselage. Will we have enough air speed and altitude to make land, or will we have to ditch in the water? Which is better? Which is safer? Which should we hope for? At this point it will be what it will be. Flip a coin and hope for heads. Or tails. Or plug your ears and go back to sleep. How did it come to this?

I am almost seriously considering going out for a pint of JD to have on hand tomorrow. They won't sell liquor till the polls close and that may not be soon enough---depending. The plan is to drink the whole thing by about 6:00 pm and be passed out on the living room rug by 7:00 when the election returns start coming in, then wake up Wednesday morning in a whole new world with a headache, bellyache and attitude that match my new surroundings and aid me in adapting to and coping with them.

Better get a fifth. Wouldn't want to be wakin' up in the middle of that shit.

Of course the really Dante-esque part is that it may not be over Wednesday morning.

God help us.