Do I strike you as a repressed psychopath with the propensity to unravel at any given moment?
I’m asking because I don’t know how else to explain this:
Please note that the cork is still encapsulated by glass. I’m fairly certain that things like this don’t normally happen to people who haven’t been to prison at least twice.
I don’t recall exerting too much force during the uncorking process, but that’s probably because my mind was busy wandering into a pleasant daydream that involved me marrying Bradley Cooper and therefore having a practical need for this fantastic just-released home buying guide for same sex couples.
It is clear, though, that I eventually snapped out of the daydream, shed a single tear for reality, and went all Incredible Hulk on the unsuspecting wine bottle.
No, I did not drink it.
Or. Well. I might have had three sips, but each one was tainted by the possibility of glass shards scraping my esophagus and wreaking havoc on my digestive tract, so I stopped. Painfully, I poured the rest of the wine down the drain.
I wonder if those three sips are reason enough for me to bring up “internal bleeding” as a valid concern at my next physical. I’m gonna go with yes. I may also have to bring up my seemingly superhuman strength — something that’s especially bizarre given the fact that I’ve allowed myself to skip the gym for the past several weeks because I took the stairs at work one morning two Fridays ago.
In any case, in regards to that question I asked at the beginning of this post — please take your time answering, because if you say the wrong thing I MIGHT RIP YOUR FACE OFF!!!