Quote: harleykwin said: Now I'm nursing the mother of all hangovers - seriously, I feel awful, tho that could also be from all the moola I've lost it's hard to count to "21" when things get blurry! - and am the only person not sleeping at the moment, so I popped in here...
I like the Bogart approach of just getting drunk again...
CJ, you are a girl after my own heart. You ever make it up to Yankeeland (and I mean that both historically and baseball wise - and both Knut and my Cap'n can stop rolling their eyes now), you and I will have a night out on the town with beer, whiskey and daquiris...
Got in about 40 minutes ago. Can't sleep. Fuckin' insomnia. I don't want to go and lose more money, so I came back here. Hope this works. I couldn't think of a new title for this chapter. Sorry. If someone wants to change the title, please feel free.
Dear, sweet Harley Kwink...I'm madly in love with you. Marry me! We can go to Canadia. Or Boston or something. It'll be grand...You know the cookies are a given. They are ALWAYS a given. You could dump me tomorrow and you'd still get the cookies. Boston..shit, wherever dyke weddings were legalized. And where better to rub their little piggie noses in how bad they suck than right on their doorstep? What are they gonna do? Be jealous of you? Stare furiously at your tah-tahs? Not willingly give you cookies, but instead begrudgingly give you their cookies? Woman, time to wake up to the powers you wield - Uschi
it's hard to count to "21" when things get blurry! 
- and am the only person not sleeping at the moment, so I popped in here...
