How I avoided death in a rockstars' drug-fueled game of chicken gone wrong, using space rockets, explosion. Before I hit 30.

Any other survivors? Need to form a group?

One minute, destined to burn bright and die young in an orgy of out of control wildly unthought through choices. The next,  half way through a mortgage with a slightly sad obsession with lawn weeds.  Seriously, I'll kill the bastards.

Now, where did I put that acetylene, petrol and me box of matches?