I did something Saturday night, that I haven's done in what seems like an eternity. My wife and I went out with friends and bar hopped. We drank....alot. We took shots. I played drunken pool with stangers and smoked at least 12 cigarettes....maybe more. The cab dropped us off at 3:00am.
The next morning, I felt like I had just walked through the Gobi desert, snacking on Cigarette butts from an old ashtray while someone banged cymbals right behind my head. I stumbled to the bathroom, drank about a gallon of water from straight from the faucet and immediately ingested 3 Advil. My first though..."Hmmm....where's my pants?" I squinted at the alarm clock and knew I had a precious 90 minutes before both kids were back. My thoughts immediately turned to food and an overwhelming urge for Grease.
After a delicious breakfast of bacon, fried eggs, gravy...more gravy, biscuits... lots of coffee, I retreated to take a shower. As soon as the water hit me and the steam floated up, I smelled the stale smoke as if I were wearing a cloak of all the disgarded butt-ends consumed by the entire bar. I looked at my feet expecting there to be a small pile of Camel Light filters around my feet. I thought about the previous night. Seriously...did I really speak French to some strange girl and did she really claim to be in the wine industry....in Ohio???? Did I really sing along to Journey and drum on the table to Jame's Laid?...(Great song though!!) Did I really seriously discuss the moral delima of fighting skinheads? Why did I do that 4th jager bomb??
A ringing doorbell interupted my hazy recollections....Crap!!! They were back!
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