Celebrating eight years of freedom - nine if I count the nearly year spent helping make payments for my fat ba$tard shyster's Lexus.
I usually say I can't hold a grudge - which is true - but, back in the day, if I'd seen the sonofabitch by the roadside with a rusty knife half sticking in him, I'd have had to stop just to make sure it was fully inserted.
I'm over that now. Kinder and gentler, you might say.
But I still wouldn't talk to him if I saw him at the Tom Thumb.