March 26, 2008
Originally published April 26, 2003
I had too much to drink last night. I stayed up much too late. I simply did TOO MUCH. I feel like Fido's ass this morning. I suspect that I LOOK LIKE Fido's ass, too, but I am afraid to peek in a mirror.
If I had to go to work today, I would shoot myself in the head with both barrels of my new derringer. That would hurt less than the rusty railroad spike that someone drove into my head last night while I was passed out asleep. The rusty spike is still there, embedded like a CNN reporter in my brain pan, and I am afraid to pull it out. If I do, all of my spiritual essence may come swirling out like a White Tornado and whizz off to clean soap-scum from somebody's nasty bathtub.
Speaking of nasty bathtubs, I believe that I drank out of one last night. Then, I believe that I moved on to the slime-encrusted toilet bowl in the same bathroom and drank out of THAT, too.
I ache. I need to brush my teeth with Chlorox. I had a long night, a short sleep and LOTS of regrets this morning, even though I remember very little of what I did last night. My head hurts, my feet stink and I don't love Bejus.
I see a big breakfast, a good puke and a long nap in my future.
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