I also had some moments I'm not proud of. I came within two inches of a fistfight. And, fortunately, my lady friend had never seen me in my
I don't give a shit if I get my ass kicked. Or killed.*frame of mind.
She now has. Unfortunately.
It only happens once every five years or so. If it happens in traffic, I usually come flying out of a car into the middle of moving traffic with an [accurate] look conveying "I am going to kill you."
It has only once resulted in anything more than furious men screaming at each other.
I wish I hadn't had it happen this weekend.
It involved a Phillies fan and traffic, so I'm sure that you understand. . . .
*Having reached deep enough depressions that I've planned to kill myself, and have thus looked at living on the street, or getting beaten up, or countless other bad things, as acceptable -- I don't give a damn -- this just happens. It's really stupid, because I have ton of great stuff to live for. Fucking Phillies. . . .