Or as we say in English, "In wine, douchebaggery."
Sometimes, while drinking, I say things I come to regret later (or even instantly). And when I examine the situations leading up to saying something I regret, invariably, I find I have only you, my reading public, to blame.
For why were you not at the bar keeping me from drinking? Why did you not nudge me under the table and say "Dude, shut the fuck up."? Indeed, why were you not there?
"Oh," I hear you say, "I have a job and can't watch over you 24/7." "Oh," you whine, "I live across a continent/ocean." "Oh, I only read your blog every month or two."
Feh! That's right, I said "Feh!" You only make excuses because you know, deep in your heart of hearts, that I'm right.
Well, at least I can sleep easy knowing that I was not being an asshole this evening; you were allowing me to be an asshole by your negligence.
You should be ashamed of yourselves.
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