On the way home today, I saw a bumper sticker that amused the hell out of me: What would Tony Soprano do?
Off-hand, I thought of these answers:
Have a bevy of mistresses, despite being married.
Screw a one-legged Russian woman.
Kill Joey Pants, decapitate the body and bury it.
Have sex with two drugged-up Icelandic stewardesses.
Go into panic attacks and crash a big SUV.
Dispose of the man my sister killed.
Do coke with nephew's fiancee.
Run around in a bathrobe.
Have some of the ugliest bed-head imaginable.
Kill cousin Tony B.
Somehow I don't think those things are supposed to be guidelines for a normal, healthy, functioning adult. But I'm OK with that.
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