Enter a Boucing Device

I came home late last night. My clothes smelled of bar and cheap beer. Waking up with the same stench staining your nose can give you a head ache well to do especially when you find your youngest of your brotherhood passed out on the couch. Replaying last night over and over again in your head doesn't help. Her name was Diana...or was Pabst? Does it even matte? The chatter amongst age old friends...or age old aquaintinces still fills my brain with nostalgia. I couldn't have imagined she would be married, with a girl, house, and a husband that works nights. Never thought I'd see him stoned. Never thought that youthful bliss was just a kiss shy of stupidity. It's like the trampoline in my backyard: its a whole lot of fun jumping on it until you hit the ground.