I am way into the seasonal foods (so was the roommate – it was a thing we had – that is, until she moved out and took all the furniture with her).
Well, fuck, I guess I’ll just enjoy my autumnal soup right here on the damn floor. After all, “it’s fall, fuckfaces. You’re either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you’re not.”
“The next thing I’m going to do is carve one of the longer gourds into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I’m going to do lines of blow off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it’s not summer, it’s not winter, and it’s not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; it’s fall, fuckers.”