I just finished a very long week of work and decided to blow off some steam by finishing a half-pint of scotch and several High Lifes. It's not a bad feeling getting drunk really fast and having an evening to kill. If only I didn't have to do it alone. But really, not a lot of drinking buddies present themselves at 1a.m. on a Monday morning.
At least drunk my shoulder doesn't bother me. I managed to injure myself, not doing some rigorous exertion or even an accidental fall, but by sleeping. That's right, even sleep is too vigorous for someone like me. So now I'm not just stinking drunk, I also stink of Walmart brand Aspercreme knockoff. Poor frugal, but sore me.
I'm watching the first season of Californication, which is wonderful so far. I really love David Duchovny's character. He's a lot like me, he hates his life. Of course, his life is better than mine in every possible way. Makes me wonder if it's just that everyone of a certain intelligence hates their life and it's all just ultimately empty or if I should just really, really fucking loathe my life. I mean, if his life sucks mine is unliveable by comparison. Which is really sad when I think of some poor guy living in Darfur. That's me, always thinking of the big picture.
Anyway, I think I'm about done typing for the moment. Well, I may try to keep typing but I need to find a different venue. Of course, I think I'm going to make a very big effort to not drunk email anyone. That can get ugly.