“I want you to understand that I am absolutely serious about the glass of milk I have with my midnight snack. See, other people just pour themselves a glass of milk. No big deal.

Not me. Fuck that. I pour a glass of milk that is so full, that if a fucking gnat happens to fart inside my house, that shit goes everywhere.

Now, prior to this, I drink a shitload of tequila, and it is 4 am on a Friday night. The mission? Get the milk to where I will enjoy my snack without spilling it.

Zen fucking monks do cartwheels in their graves.

My entire »being, my fate — my »destiny, depends on transporting one glass of milk to the snack retreat without spilling a drop.

And every once in a while?

I succeed.”

— Bobby Yingo at the White Room