On a recent morning I realized how far I've come in this continued, subconscious rejection of traditional lifestyles. I spent a night in my Jeep that was everything less than pleasant. Intoxicated, I lumbered in after my neighborhood bar rounds and dropped my back seat. Giving little attention to details, the therm-a-rest and sleeping bag liner were prepared and my road trip bed was set up. The burden of hellish heat and unforgiving New Orleans humidity was complemented exquisitely by my personal cloud of mosquitoes. I got to work early, showered, and was still in a great mood. It was that morning that I realized I had one last thing to do before I became a true dirtbag.
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We were at one of Mid City's illustrious watering holes last night and the gents restroom here has one of my favorite bar features: a chalk board above the urinals. I love to write stupid jokes or witty witticisms. Last night though I was caught in the act of psychological warfare. Halfway through committing my sentence to the destructive medium of the chalkboard another male entered the chamber to relieve himself. To finish my act of social terrorism or not?
The phrase was completed. Without lapse my random victim had begun to read it. Then after a brief pause, eventually, with complete eloquence, the man spoke. "That would suck!"