Wednesday, April 06, 2005


When you could drink until the wee hours of the morning, then go to work on just a couple hours of sleep.

It didn't really seem like that long ago.

Apparently, at some point in time, I wasn't paying attention, and I got old.

Or at least stopped being able to drink until the wee hours of the morning.

Big Boy stopped over last night, with the traveling liquor cabinet, so I indulged in some vodka.

Probably a tad more than SOME.

I feel like shit this morning.

So bad, in fact, that a sausage McMuffin with cheese and egg, AND a diet Coke hasn't helped my lot in life yet. Pretty bad when the old grease remedy dosen't help much.

I've switched up to regular Coke. At least if my hands are still shaking, it's not residuals of last night, it'll be the sugar and caffeine.


This blows.

PT is called on account of nausea. Those are the breaks. Just the mere thought of 90 minutes of being yanked and cranked, going up and down stairs, and the dreaded elliptical makes me want to hurl. I don't see where yakking all over the equipment would be beneficial to the knee. Really.

Don't mind me, I'm just going to sit quietly til it goes away.

I better write Big Boy and find out why this morning, there were multiple packs of condoms on the coffee table, a bra in the kitchen and lawn chairs in the front lawn. Very Odd.

I remember when it was fun to do this.

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