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:: Monday, March 7, 2005 ::
Oh, my God. 'Hungover' doesn't explain it properly.
Dissembled. Fractured. Obliterated.
No. There is no word for it. These three lines have taken me thirty minutes to type. My fingers are so loud, and the effort is superhuman.
What have I done to myself?
Mike, you idiot.
Sweat it out, and sleep it off. You smell like Walter Matthau in "Bad News Bears." You smell like Nicholas Cage in "Leaving Los Vegas." You just... smell. Like ... what? Vodka and wine and scotch AND beer? You're a George Thorogood song. And that's never good.
Mike, you idiot.
Hit the showers.
.
:: mike 7:31 AM [+] ::
