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Bedtime for Boozo

Folks, I’ve got nothing tonight. Nada. Zilch. Zipperooni.

Chalk it up to a long, hard day at work. Or the four hours and change of sleep I got last night. Or maybe the throbbing, raging hangover I woke up with this morning.

(And believe me, folks — if you’re going to wake up to something ‘throbbing’ and ‘raging’, you don’t want it to be a hangover.

On the other hand, you probably don’t want it to be anything else, either. Throbbing or raging, perhaps, but not both at once — that’s just creepy.)

Of course, the hangover is all my fault. ‘Hey,’ I told myself, back before it was completely laughable, ‘I’ll just go down to the Comedy Studio to catch a quick show. Just a couple of sets, and a quick dinner, and I’ll be home by eleven. No problem!‘

Right. No problem. The show ended at ten. I got home at two-thirty, and into bed sometime after three. And then up at eight, for no better reason than being horizontal started to seem like a really, really bad idea. Oof.

Anyway, the point is, I’m all poopered out. Looks like I won’t be up in time for that fantabulous Red Sox parade planned for tomorrow morning, either. And what a shame — there’s nothing I like better than standing in the cold with five million drunken, sweaty guys screaming, ‘Yankees suck!‘ for three hours. Really. I live for that shit. No, honestly.

Eh, it’s just as well. I’d rather sleep than parade, anyway. Or be paraded at, or to, or in front of. I don’t know how these parady kinds of things work, frankly. It seems like an awful lot of standing around outside, with an obstructed view and in a fog of other people’s b.o., waiting for people to ride by in cars, or on floats, or some other such thing. Sounds cold and shrivelly, if you ask me. I’m sleeping in. The Sox can ‘Go!‘ while I’m drooling on my pillow. Maybe I’ll TiVo it, and save it for later. That’s a plan. Woo Sox.

Meanwhile, though, I gotta hit the sack. I’m not getting any less exhausted sitting here at the ‘puter, and my pillow isn’t gonna drool all over itself, you know. I’ve got responsibilities here, and I’m getting to ’em right now. I’ll see you kids when my eyes will stay open on their own again. Nighty-night.