Here's The Good News. If I Realize

I Am On A Drug. It's Called Charlie Sheen. It's Not Available. If You Try It Once, You Will Die. Your Face Will Melt Off And Your Children Will Weep Over Your Exploded Body.

I'm Tired Of Pretending Like I'm Not Bitching, A Total Fricking Rock Star From Mars...

I've Always Been A Little Skittish About Death. On Certain Days I'm Okay With It. On Other Days It's Like, "really? I Have To? No, Man, Not Me."

I'm Bi-winning. I Win Here, I Win There.

There Was This One Time In Vegas When I Took Four Victoria's Secret Models And Did One Gram Off Each Of Their Bodies Within, Like, 45 Minutes. I Declared Myself King Of Vegas And Decided To Remodel My Hotel Room With My Bare Hands To Resemble King Louis Xiv's Bedroom At Versailles. Knocked Down Two Entire Walls, And Later Had Four Knuckle Surgeries. Still Wasn't As High As Rob Ford.