Tu Rah Lou Rah Lou Rah Ayyyyyy

I forced myself to listen to 'Come on Eileen' in its entirety on the drive here in the hopes that it would either lift my spirits or convince me to steer into a tree. Unexpectedly, but thankfully I find myself a tad cheerier.

I don't play poker well tired, frustrated, or stressed. That information would have been more helpful 24 hours ago. Apparently the price of self-actualization is $105.

And of course I handled it with enough composure to compell me to explain to everyone that I wasn't really that mad. Bitterness, for me, is about 80% performance art.

Luckily for my other 20% still suffices to provide more misery that would be experienced by the common man. Thankfully for you, it might also provide a reasonable and steady source of entertainment...case in point..

After everyone left I was sitting there broke, miserable, drunk and tired. I cleaned up, pouted for a while, then decided to go to bed....or in my case last night go to 'couch'. I dug through the ottoman and couldn't find a blanket bigger than a large towel so I patch worked together 7 small blankets, intricately overlapping them to create one large blanket and cocooning myself in.

I no sooner got all of situated and put my head upon my pillow when I had the sudden and uncontrollable urge to piss. Now it had taken me maybe 6 minutes of adjusting and readjusting those fucking blankets 100 times so that my ass wasn't sticking out into the cold air and now that I had everything perfect I had to take a leak.

I refused.

I laid there for what seemed like an eternity, spiting myself, and refusing to give in. I somehow figured that if I could just fall asleep everything would be ok. Obviously, that was a flawed plan.

I was just about resigned to getting up when I remember that the giant 64oz glass that I had just finished was sitting empty at the end of the couch. Now I don't wanna be no 'jug-pisser' but extreme circumstances sometimes call for extreme measures...and without upsetting the apple cart and using my cell phone as a light source, I could both reach the cup and unveil the necessary particulars.

After some nervous apprehension I got the process started and felt the calm relief of release....and more release...and some more...about 62 ounces of......errr wait for it.....up-oh....63.....oh lord please don't...whew....about 63.5 ounces of relieved release.

Delicately, carefully, tentatively, I wedged the cup between the couch and the ottoman. I didn't want to accidentally knock it over and I sure as hell didn't want the cat to tip it. I placed it down next to the couch and pulled the ottoman closer and closer. It was quite tight enough so I gave the footrest one last little tug, just hard enough to firmly wedge the cup in there.....and just hard enough to overcome the inertia that was holding my cell phone in place atop my laptop. Before I could realize what that noise in the darkness was my cell phone slide off the laptop, off the ottoman, and directly to the bottom of the piss filled cup.

BTW, a Motorola razor displaces exactly .4oz of water if fully submerged.

So the final tally is me:
- minus another hour of sleep
- minus one cup
- minus one phone

On the other hand I have a great story that I really can't (shouldn't) tell anyone.

Needless to say, if you need to get hold of me today, ring me on the office line. Oh yeah, and be sure to ask for me by my new name..Rock....Rock Bottom.