People often ask me "How was your day?", to which I reply "Shitty.", or "Mediocre.", or "Get to the point, you old fucker." (if it's my mom).

What I never do is tell them I had a good day.  That is because when I was a teenager, I thankfully had a good day defined for me by the poet O'Shea Jackson, better known by his nom de plume Ice Cube.

To make sure that I accurately describe my day in these instances, I keep a running diary, then fill out a homemade checklist in the evening.  Depending on ...
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Between shifts of sending out free donkey posters to the lucky inhabitants of this planet, we here at FDP sub-headquarters (East Coast) occasionally take drugs.  It was during one of these monotonous drug-binges that we asked bobkerolls, our senior street correspondent, to provide a one or two sentence description of each drug he had consumed.  This is purely for recreational and educational purposes so that the children, convicted Mormons, and other non-drug users will understand the drug-us...
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