Always glad to be of service. I think the biggest reason why my high school compatriots all look at me strangely when I say that I haven't had the seemingly obligatory freakout when I turned forty is because I tell them "Hey, I had a huge pile of interesting stories before I turned 25, and the pile's only gotten bigger since then." (Well, that and watching my ex-wife freak out when she turned 40 a decade ago. She earned her nickname as "the Nancy Spungen of fandom" fair and square.)
You say that, but you didn't hear my best friend (who's also Irish) openly lament that she didn't shoot up solely so he could clean his fingernails with her works. Apparently, pissing in the bottles of Crown Royal she was hiding over the sink wasn't enough for him.
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She was diagnosed a schizophrenic and really couldn't help herself because she needed someone to supervise her and make her take her meds.
(Solidarity R Us!)
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