Sorry about the previous post. After reading it over again, I now realize how depressing it is. It is indicative of what a late hockey game, two Newcastles and an ex-girlfriend's rambling, feeling-laden telephone tirade can do to a man at two o'clock in the morning. Even more depressing is the fact that I cannot alleviate the pain of our breakup by tossing a toaster into her bubble bath. Fucking government and their mandated circuit-breakers.

Labels: death, drinking, feelings, hockey, she who