Mornings aren’t as fun as they used to be. My brain feels like it’s brimming with a keg of Monkey Island Grog. It’s not a lack of sleep, as I’m getting plenty of that, but probably a lack of ambition. Thoughts of the day immediately start to gnaw at my weary soul, and all I can think of is all the things that will inevitably remain undone at the day’s closure. It starts bad, and slowly degrades until bedtime.
Frank Sinatra said, “I feel sorry for people that don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s the best they’ll feel all day.” Hmm. My mornings are really crappy, and apparently this is because of my lack of alcoholism! If I go to bed sloshed and wake up with a hangover, the day can only get better, right? I will take Sinatra’s advice, and from henceforth I will spend every waking moment in an alcoholic stupor. I’ll put beer on my Chex in the morning and nip from a flask through my morning classes. During my afternoon break I will entertain a warm thermos of Kahlua, and by the time jazz rolls around I’ll be a stumbling, slurring bucket of fun fun fun.
Whooopeiie! Ryan gots me some Millar Hihg Liffe, so the expertamint New LIfe began n0w! Now I’m gooona go fine Neighghche the philsopher a and make hum give me hIS! Toobverculosis. Ahh! Mah new life gis da Hiiiigh Life with’ the ahecheacp ebbear that goed alonged withed ited. I starded mah filosofie papaer on Eume wuith the H and I’ve writed three pages! WOoo! Theree! only fifety treaah mmoaere to go.
Ok, well, that was a fun experiment. I only wish I could get that drunk. Now, I complain, complain, complain. Oh, woe is me, poor Dane has a shyt-ton of writing to do and all he wants to do is go play in the snow, break out the Xtreme sled and get another concussion…
…yes, I whine a lot, but tonight put it all in perspective as I was driving back from my reporting session at the Round About. I may think my life sucks, but at least I’m not the guy with one leg pushing himself in a wheelchair down the middle of 4th Street in the snow.