Well, that was bright.
This past weekend was rather… Bacchanalian for me, if you will. Pats game on Thursday, work party and comedy show on Friday, dinner and another show Saturday, and softball game/nachofest/beer ‘n’ football watching bash on Sunday. I woke up yesterday morning feeling like a quarterback dogpiled under a bunch of sweaty linebackers. And not in a good way, either. Keep your minds above the belt, ladies.
Truth be told, I actually felt a little more like Courtney Love. But after all the late nights and beer and nasty cheese, I think my boobs are probably bigger. At least I didn’t show them to anyone. Well, maybe once — at the football game. Hey, anything for the cameras. I’m a performer; so sue me.
Anyway, given the increased — and sustained — rate of debauchery and brain cell damage going on, I decided it was time to take it easy for a bit. Eat some veggies. Get some exercise. Snort apple juice off a hooker’s back, instead of… well, just instead. Let’s not go there.
So, that’s all well and good, right? Score one for the liver, and the heart, and the… um, the… what do you call those little celly things in the brain? Wiggly little buggers, they remember names and numbers and help you taste ‘salty’… oh! Neurons. Neurons. Score one for neurons. Although that particular game may be over already, in my case. Moving on.
Anyway, here’s the thing. I completely forgot, when I came up with my clever little plan, that I’m going to a bachelor party this weekend. In a casino. Yeah, that’s all homeopathic and shit. I may come back with my brain in a body bag, and another mortgage on the house. And isn’t that how everyone wants to spend the weekend? Live hard, lose fast, and sleep when you’re dead. Which might be Sunday night, at this rate. Eh. What’re ya gonna do?Permalink | 2 Comments