Last night at IZZY’s I was telling Tracy about the death of my grandfather. I remembered playing ATARI at my buddy Scott’s house… late. My brother was inside the store getting a gallon of milk and seemed to be taking too long. He was tossing it in the air and catching it and it slipped and spilled all over the aisle. Tonight we were in Joe’s and this little kid was carrying a gallon of milk and his dad tells him to set it by their basket and “splash” the jug splits and milk is pouring onto the floor. I told the guy I’d go find someone. It was funny as hell. When I came back by the boy was crying a bit. I told him: “Don’t cry over spilt milk.” I’ve always wanted to say that in proper context.