Why must it be so impossible to get going on a Sunday morning? Don't answer that. I'm being rhetorical. I think it has something to do with subsisting on vodka tonics and hot wings yesterday. Probably unwise, but a good time. Today I'll have to do something tremendous and humanitarian to make up for my transgressions of yesterday.
Yesterday was the big sporting event of the year... perhaps of all history... for college sports... football in particular. That would be the Ohio State vs University of Michigan game. Don't get me wrong, I couldn't give a fine pink beet-induced shit about college sports, but some perfectly respectable and intellectually superior grown men I knew were in tears over the outcome. It was a sad state of affairs. I did the only logical thing I could think of to do in such a situation: I ordered another round and I went home and baked consolation cookies. As a result, I can't tell if the headache I'm suffering today is a sugar or booze hangover. Never let it be said that I am anything short of an exceptional friend.
Should today be a day I troll for fellers on Match.com or my favorite bondage site? I need a date. Watching grown men beating the snot out of each other on the gridiron makes me think that: a) I need me some Y-chromosome action and b) the bondage site will probably produce something appropriate to my appetites right now.
Over and out.