Lawyers, Guns and Money

Got the hangover false-dawn this morning. Despite the fact that I went to bed at 2:30, I awoke at 5:30 ready to start the day. In about half an hour, my body will betray me, and want to go back to sleep until 10:00. But it will be too late. I need to be in the office by eight today. So it goes. I sure am hungry, though. Perhaps because I didn't keep last night's dinner down, opting instead to leave it in the parking lot of last night's second bar.

As an aside, I find it much easier on the body to vomit while drunk, rather than while hungover.

I swear, I set out to have one -- maybe two beers last night. My compadre, Frankie, decided to hit on the waitress at the second bar. When she got off at ten, he made up a whole plan that he and I had for the evening and invited her along with us. Up to that moment, I was planning to finish my beer, go home, and watch South Park until I dozed off on the couch. Instead, by midnight I was halfway into my third Grey Goose (rocks) at the third bar, bragging about my skills at bocce. How I ended up bragging about that is lost in the fog. I don't play bocce. Didn't even know how to spell it until just now.

I had a graphic dream about that waitress. This morning I'm having trouble separating the dream from the reality. Shit. Alarm clock just went off.