Last night I had myself a little birthday celebration out in Astoria. Surprise! I got drunk.
I woke up around 10:30am which was earlier than I should have considering we didn't even leave the bar until after 3:00am. When I woke up I thought I had escaped a horrible hangover. As the day progressed I realized this wasn't the case. It all caught up to me. The pierogies, the pitchers of beer, the shots of whisky, vodka and tequila ... all caught up, jumped on my back and smashed my face into the floor. I was not as hungover as I was a couple of Saturdays ago, but it was close. I even had a bout of the sweats. Just like Albert from Little House on the Prairie when he was coming off of morphine.
Some notes for a hungover Sunday:
Dear TBS,
Please give me a fucking break with your Sunday viewing options. This is what you offered me today? Sweet November, Sleepless In Seattle, Fools Rush In, Stepmom and Pretty Woman (2x). Torture. Total torture. What happened to "Very Funny" as you like to say?
Dear Rachael Ray,
Just a quick kitchen tip. When you are frying up Canadian bacon in a nonstick pan you don't need E-V-O-O.
Dear Old School,
You are fucking funny. Almost funny enough to stop being pissed off at TBS and Rachael Ray
Dear Paquito's,
If human/food unions are ever legalized, I would marry your soft tacos.
1 comment:
I'm sorry I missed all the excitement, although I did run into Gabe on Sunset Boulevard. We were the only two people not in cars so I guess it wasn't so surprising. (The Taurus must be in the shop.)
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