Fits like a fist in the eye.

A running horse never plowed a field.

Deader than yesterdays news.

Wilder than a March hare.

Darker than a [bleep] pocket.

Better than a sharp stick in the eye.

Got a wild hair up his ass.

Busier than a one armed paper hanger.

When its gone, its gone.
Said by the new guy on a fly in camp who drank all the beer by Tuesday.


My other auto is a .45

The bitterness of poor quality is remembered long after the sweetness of low price has faded from memory