The PK 27 -- Track 11

I'm perfectly hungover and feel as though I've been poisoned; so I suppose it's been a good weekend. It's not a well-documented fact, but, truth be told, Constant Retard, I'm fond of pleasing the species feminina. (Almost as fond as I am of commas.) Occasionally, this hobby of mine includes agreeing to go ice skating. Enter: alcohol. Last night's friend, today's saboteur.

What a way to go out, out like a sucker: turns out drunken promises are hard to keep when you're standing on the corner of 5th and Vomit. Thankfully, the life of one Tiberious aka Sparkles was spared by an angel of mercy.

Sometimes I fuck up -- of that I am willing to admit. Sometimes was today, and the level of gratitude I hold in my heart towards [name withheld upon request] for giving me a mulligan is immeasurable.

With that, I dedicate track 11 to the homogametic sex. Psychedelic Kimchi extends its superlative thankfulness to a much-appreciated, increasingly rare breed of humans: the Sunday Morning Nurturers, women who put up with -- and forgive -- our indulgence, our idiotic behavior.

Word to Marge Simpson.