I'm sitting here amongst two banana peels, burning incense and with my 'num lock' on. I never turn on my 'num lock'. I don't even know what a fucking 'num lock' is for Christ's sake, but mine is on. What did I do?! Shit! Saints win...what a night. God, ...can't believe the sun is up and it is only 9am.[What are seeds doing in my ashtray?] Oooh, I'm sorry. I'm back now. I gotta tell ya a little secret. I can't "hang" like I used to. All night parties ain't for me any more. Let me correct myself. They are for me, but I just can't handle them like I used to be able to.
I don't even smoke anymore and I'm scrounging around a for partially smoked cig in the ashtray. I need nicotine! Actually a beer will do, but it's too early. I mean I just quit a couple of hours ago. Ugh!
I'm retiring from all night parties. It doesn't matter what excuse I use to have one. A Super Bowl, Mardi Gras, New Year's or some little putz named Murray's Bar Mitzvah – I've got to stop! Well, maybe not until after Fat Tuesday anyway. Okay, July 4th...see what I mean? I'm diseased with party plague.
I'm going to check myself in to our local sexual addiction center. I hear Tiger's wife is here to pick him up and I need to have a talk with her. Think I'll invite her to stay for Fat Tuesday. Maybe she'll keep me occupied enough that I won't enjoy myself.
I wonder if she would know how those seeds got into my ashtray.








