Fuck the cup!

**VOMITS AGAIN, BRIEFLY THINKS THINGS ARE UNDER CONTROL, VOMITS A THIRD TIME**

That's fucking beautiful.

Correct. He's the commanding officer of the whole U.S. operation.

When you've got a dozen of them within a few blocks competing for talent, things get thin in a hurry. Plus the Bourbon St. crowd isn't exactly made up of your high-rollers (I say this as someone who's there at least once a year). They're hanging on to their cash for booze.

How much for one wing? I sure is hungry…

I expect the rapid franchising of Buffalo WW and all the me-too places that have sprung up have a lot to do with wing prices. Not to mention that they grow one for one with breasts, each a full meal versus the 10 or so wings you need to begin feeling satisfied (and usually a lot more).

I've fallen for the boneless wing ruse. They're white meat, meaning far less flavorful than actual wings. Spread the word!

First and second rules of Supper Club? Do not click on Supper Club.

**VOMITS**

Wings can have an incredibly positive effect on the psyche.

Bourbon St. strip clubs are almost all incredibly sad. Watching some girl collect the three dollars thrown on the stage while she was dancing is heartbreaking.

I accept full responsibility.

The thought of living long-term trapped in your own body with a disease like ALS is about the scariest thing I can contemplate. No movement, no communication. Yikes.

Similar looks, age and of course steely gazes. Not an entirely unreasonable mistake.

He played Tom Cruise's crew chief, right?

Skilled driver.

Renaissance man.

My parents are both early 70s and fortunately very healthy. Hell, my dad still runs four miles a day and has a six-pack. It's embarrassing to go to the beach with him.

Probably claimed Yeager didn't really go into space, a la Buzz Aldrin's ill-fated heckler.