I think I’m dead.

So I opened that bottle of wine and couldn’t bring myself to make any offers.

I talked myself out of one of them because I’m already battling with the pickups that’d come in it.

The other one… I dunno… maybe I need tequila?
 
So I opened that bottle of wine and couldn’t bring myself to make any offers.

I talked myself out of one of them because I’m already battling with the pickups that’d come in it.

The other one… I dunno… maybe I need tequila?
There were new whiskey glasses on my doorstep this morning. I think they are big enough to remove all inhibitions
 
So I opened that bottle of wine and couldn’t bring myself to make any offers.

I talked myself out of one of them because I’m already battling with the pickups that’d come in it.

The other one… I dunno… maybe I need tequila?
Tequila and guac should solve your problem
 
Are they in a color that you don't already have? Have you tried having some extra spicy salsa and then gazing upon them? Perhaps you can see a sign in their finish?

Random stream-of-consciousness aside: I'm told I was once dead for a little bit, when I was 6 or 7, from surgery complications. I mostly remember trippy, morphine-influenced dreams and thinking my IV was my old kindergarten teacher. I wonder if my parents blame that on my becoming so infatuated with music, especially jazz and rock, which they discouraged. Or maybe because my kindergarten teacher's punishment was to sit behind the piano, which she played when someone was there.
 
I decided to prove I wasn’t dead by getting tickets to Adele.
I tried to prove I wasn't dead by moving amps and stuff around in my studio. I got it looking pretty cool, or so I thought.

Then my wife said, "Everything in the studio has been gone since you died. You haven't moved a thing. But thanks for appearing at the seance. Hey, we were wondering, did you go to heaven or hell?"

"Seriously, you have to ask? How long have you known me?"

"You're in hell then, right?"

"Duh."
 
I tried to prove I wasn't dead by moving amps and stuff around in my studio. I got it looking pretty cool, or so I thought.

Then my wife said, "Everything in the studio has been gone since you died. You haven't moved a thing. But thanks for appearing at the seance. Hey, we were wondering, did you go to heaven or hell?"

"Seriously, you have to ask? How long have you known me?"

"You're in hell then, right?"

"Duh."
She couldn’t hear the bagpipes?:p:D
 
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