So it’s 1990… Hurtling down the wrong side of I40 between Needles and Barstow, just for kicks, at 95 miles per hour on 4 bald tires after eating a handful of reds washed down with a quart of Gin… Some bimbo that you picked up at a seedy, shot-out motel in Pacoima, sitting… Well… Half passed out in the passenger’s seat , playing braless peek-a-boo through a tattered concert T-Shirt probably qualifies as a lapse in judgement, right? …Right? Beyond being in contention for a Darwin award, it seems that some might think it more worthy of judgement passing than, say, Jaywalking maybe? …Maybe?
At this point in 1990 It had not occurred to me that there was anything wrong with the way my life had been unfolding over the past few years, the Blonde Wife was still putting up with my S#!t, I still had a job that I showed up to most days and I looked fine in the mirror for the most part. Never mind that I was was drinking about 3 5ths of gin a day by this point and I saw things that just weren’t there (The Ducks Were Back).