The amount of time this year since Schmidt's Syndrome has affected me.
Today sucked.
The Schmidt's was aweful, it drained the life out of the day, an important day.
Mr. Schmidt smashed my desire and laughed at my plans.
Only this evenings single malt can quiet his voice and mask my pain.
Cheers Mr. Schmidt, today you beat me.
broken
Whisky helps me too! I say screw the meds, and give us a prescription for Glen Fiddich.
ReplyDeleteHell yeah
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