F (minus!)
If there are any readers at all left, I'm sure you're all under the impression that I failed the bar or something. Of course not. After passing the bar (typically hung-over, on an empty stomach and sans much sleep), we went on a whirlwind tour of these great United States, rekindled passion for the most spectacular of persons, attended the nuptials of delightfully snarky friends, and generally had a whale of a time. That is to say, I couldn't be bothered with the banality of staring at a screen when I had a life to live.
Things have since taken a turn for the boring. But we're still rolling mighty deep in it. In the money, the booze, the friendships, the occasional kink, the law. There's mischief afoot in foreign lands, wrongs to be righted, scores to be settled and fortunes to be saved. In an uncharacteristic moment of hubris, we assign the "F-" to anyone foolish enough to oppose our onrushing greatness.
...ceterum, I believe that Bush should be, like, impeached.
