I always drink the finest Dom Perignon champagne

I always drink the finest Dom Perignon champagne out of former Nutella jars. It keeps me grounded. It reminds me of who I am and where I came from. It reminds me of not having

a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. Now I have not one, but three pissing pots (one for me, one for guests, and one I stole from George because he made a pass at my

potted plant, Hermann. Hermann doesn't like being pissed upon and promptly ate him.I seized the opportunity and stole George's mother-of-pearl inlayed pisspot. It became my favorit

e pisspot, among the many I stole. Each of my pisspots were useful, depending on my moods. I liked using the mother-of-pearl pisspot when I wanted to project a sense of innocence,

but Aunt Ida took it because after her mad trip to Monaco she didn't have a pot to piss in. That left me with the brass number. That was the bothersome one because of the splashbac

k and other assorted "side-effects" is carried. But it was a handy piece of hardware and could crack some stone at a good distance. That cute chubby girl at Costco would bone me if

I could just manage to get off ketamine, but I couldn't. The drugs were too powerful, and no girl, even if she was as fat as an aircraft carrier was going to get between me and my

Special K. Hank Moody showed up out of nowhere bearing a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. He held it towards me, pointing his finger. "You need an intervention, bro." His definition

of intervention was an old fashioned man to man over a bottle of scotch. Moody imparted a lifetime of wisdom on the young man. They sat in silence, an understanding between them.