I swear! Never, ever again!
Before you tell someone to remove the splinter from their eye, remove the fucking plank from your own eye.
You goddamn hypocrite!
The other morning ...... would not talk to me. "Hi," I said to her that morning. "Hm," she replied while looking at a book. I said a few other things like "woman, there is a spider in the bathroom and I would be honored if you would run down and kill it, right this instant, right this instant as I say this to you, why aren't you moving." When she gets like this it worries me because I wonder if maybe she accidentally found my vibrator or maybe she accidentally read my journal or held my empty liquor bottles upside down. Or maybe she accidentally found herself stumbling into my closet, period. I mean that has to emotionally disturb even the best of us.
Creating methamphetamine is a dangerous process. The chemicals and solvents are more than just flammable; they're highly volatile and downright explosive. If you're bubblin' up paint thinner in a $19.00 Family Guy coffee mug you ordered off a web site -- and it cracks in half over the Spider-Man 2 laser pointer doubling as a Bunsen burner -- well, nobody ever said finding the perfect recipe was gonna be easy. It's not Julia Child in the kitchen, it's Julia Child on meth in the kitchen: and she's in there whackin' on turkeys with croquet mallets and makin' those weird meth faces, going duh with all her stupid meth friends, knocking the pie into the propane, and generally being careless. When meth ingredients explode and glass containers burst, hot sticky chemicals splash outward in every direction. Meth labs don't "catch" fire, they're instantly placed into a state of violent, raging fire climbing up the walls and ceiling of your trailer home or apartment complex. So wear an apron. Nothing beats a picture of a burned-out Volkswagen bus meth lab with an upside-down teddy bear in the corner.
