Today I discovered my friend, confidant, and fish, Bubba the Pacu, belly up at the bottom of my tank.

I am sad. Near heartbroken.
Bubba was a psychotic fish. Paranoid to the extreme. And possibly suicidal. The other night he jumped out of his tank. He seemed to be recovering. His water pump clogged when he ate no more then one mouthful of food. If he hadn't of eaten that one mouthful, I would have taken all of it out and fed him today. If he had intended to die, he has succeeded.

This is the final straw.
I am ready to move to texas at the end of next week, now.

As I write this, I am most illegally (by USA statute) drunk. I my parental units already know, though that's a wrath I'll face when I wake (hopefully soberer then now).

First things first: This blog is my last sanctuary against the plebes...

Second: My apologies to any I offend... Unless you are diametrically opposed to what I've said so far...

Third: I've defended my friends, without fail, and without prejudice. I've taken up their slack and sacrificed my honor...

And where is my reward? A woman to love? Neigh. Riches? Neigh. Loyalty of my peers? NEIGH. Such is my fate, but when I am drunk? TO THE NETHERS WITH MY HONOR, for none honor me when I babble...

What this is meant to say us FML.