Cut me Mick

I feel like Rocky in round 12. I'm beaten, worn down, and in pain. And this is TWO DAYS AFTER going out drinking with young girls.

My neighbor was taking her duaghter and her friends from out of town drinking and asked Grib and I to come along and keep him company. " Go out drinking with you and 4 young girls. Sure I suppose I could do that", I coyly answered.

Little did I anticipate that the show would not be worth the price of admission.

" Here drink this." and " You can't urinate in our doorway" are only two clear memories fo the night. Everything else is haze of drunken blathering, hooting, and declarations of suddenly realized truths and revelations.

Yesterday I woke in a stuppor. I could function but with difficulty and much confusion. I wore the same expression as Charlton Heston when he sees the Apes talk for the first time, except in my situation I felt like I was the ape. Amazingly, and depressingly, the girls were unaffected by all of it. They were up the next morning drinking bloody mmarys, giggling, and making designs on their next assult against sobriety without of a care of the madness and destruction they left in their wake.

But like the good soldier I took my kid to his basketball game, played with the children during the day, I took everyone out an bought a Christmas tree and I made everyone I nice dinner. At 9 pm I was unconscious.

This moring has gone marginally better. I was able to drive without fear of flunking a breathelizer, which was a nice change from all of yesterday. The haze of hangover is slowly being replaced by a sense of normalcy...well if humiliation, stupor and an overwhelming sense that you're suddenly very old are all your normal sensabilities. Thankfully, I fit the bill.

Have a fun Monday and I'll try and come up with something a little more interesting to say for tomorrow.