Decisions, decisions, decisions. Picture yourself at a party, which is located in a house, which is sitting atop a mountain, which has a long, steep, snaky road to get to the house.
Now, you need a ride home. Don’t ask me why you need a ride home. Hell, you’re the guy who went to the party. Use your imagination. If you don’t have one, I’ll help you.
You were driven to the party by a knockout blonde and you had wonderful plans for after the party. At the party, the blonde sees a young, rich, handsome man. She dumps you and drives off to the nearest motel with the guy. Well, that’s life.
Now that I’ve helped you on that one, how do you get home? You have three possibilities for a ride home, and here they are (think of this as a test):
a) A guy who has been smoking funny stuff for four hours and is hovering somewhere between Saturn and Jupiter.
b) A guy who has been swilling hooch for four hours as if the distillery were on fire.
c) A guy who has smoked almost three packs of Lucky Strike in four hours.
If that is really too difficult for you, you may skip that test and take this one, with only two possibilities (Damn, I’m easy):
a) A guy whose smoking you will have to endure all the way home.
b) A guy who will fly you off of a 200-foot precipice.
If you find that one too difficult, go directly to the nut house, do not pass “GO.”
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