So this is what my life has been reduced to: unemployed, staring shamelessly at what appear to be celestial planets posing as buttcheeks. That 32 inch rim must be livid. For the first time in his shiny life, eyes aren't on him. I'm assuming Ice is comfortable with you squatting half naked in public and suffocating the life out of g strings. I guess, to each his own. Anywho, if you're ever in Boston give me a holler, this severance package should be more than enough to carry us through, say, Sbarro's and bottle service at the Irish Pub around the corner?
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