“I didn't quite expect this, but I think it went well. I think Ron took the high road - the correct moral choice - and it paid off for me. Thank you, Ron, for your dedication to righteousness. But I'm not complaining...”
“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I intended to wear my Risk shirt today but did not carry through on my intention and I - unsurprisingly - lost.”
“And so my quote begins. (Thanks for the compliment to my genitalia Marto). Today I tried to live. Froze my ass off at work with the only thought to keep me going was if I complete this shift I can afford to drink at the Risk game tonight. Unfortunately my drinking party didn t lead to a victory. Twelve attacks to forty-five defenses. Upon declaring I would only count my pitcher of daquiri as four drinks, I thought I was getting a bargain. Little did I realize that it contained two hundred and fifty millilitres of rum. And now I will spend the evening searching for something to mix the rest of this shit with. We have Jello mix? If you beat someone with fives I would be surprised cause they don t win as often as they should. The tribe has spoken. I hate Survivor. The weak always take out the strong at their first opportunity. I guess it reflects in Risk. If I don t fight through every onslaught I will be overwhelmed. I must rise above on the mix as we speak. Well, as I write. If I am speaking to you right now you are either dead or dying (how the bleeding gout do you spell that word). It looks as though I m dying a shirt. Where did I go wrong besides allowing myself to be attacked? That s it, my strategy from now on is to not be attacked. What the fuck? On the other hand? I have no idea where I m going with this. Don t know if I m at w& oh shit, I have to complete my thoughts before I leave the table to get more drinks. I ve got a VCR. A video cassette recorder. Or is it replayer. Any takers. No. Oh well, uhmm& I have not re-read what I have written. Therefore.”
