Today, I woke up late...by about an hour or more. If I had a job, this would be a problem, but, since lucrative positions in the "do nothing but shit for money" career field are all filled, I'm free to dick off. Still, I try to get up to wake the two oldest children in time to catch the bus. This didn't happen today and only one made it. What lead to this disaster? I'd like to actually blame the ah-ah-ah-a-a-a-alcohol (thank you Jamie Foxx!), though I did cover fact that getting drunk isn't an excuse for jack shit (fuck you Jamie Foxx!). My only saving grace is I only drank enough, to disrupt my sleep and completely fuck up my day. I stopped short of the soul cleansing goodness of obliviously shit faced drunk.
Didn't use one mirror.
I don't know what it is about booze that makes me drag asstic for days afterward. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's the dehydration aspect of imbibing or me being a weak sissy bitch drunk. That last one was a test. If you think that, I challenge you! Bring a box of Kleenex because you will be crying in defeat...and giving me a handjob as a token of your worthlessness. Oh, and you'd have to be a woman. Though, I have nothing against homosexuality, I have severe reservations about looking at a defeated, crying drunk male stroking my junk. It's not homophobia, it's just that the lack of boner on my part coupled with the fact that I'd have to be looking at a sobbing dude would make for a long, drawn out, endless awkward moment...with lots of chafing that I really don't need. If you're a guy, just buy me more booze or lots of money. That will be your albatross of shame! I digress. Alas, I got up late. I didn't hear my alarm go off. Nope, check that. I did hear my alarm, I just incorporated it into my dream. This particular dream was me inheriting a watch from what everyone told me was my grandfather, but, looked oddly like Colonel Sanders. It was a really nice gold, antique kind of watch, the kind that someone would have secreted in their rectum to keep from secret police or shadow government.
That colon gold watch gets video! SOLD!
Anyway, the lawyer is reading all this dreamy, mumbly lawyer shit about inherited watches when, the alarm started going off on it. I tried like crazy to cut it off. I was jabbing at the buttons, slamming on the lawyer's desk, slamming it on the lawyer's face and buttocks. I gave serious thought to putting back in Colonel Sanders's rectum but, thought better of it, so, I hit the lawyer across the face a couple more times. Nothing. The damn thing mockingly refused to go off. I was strapping a hand grenade to it when it hit me...it's your REAL alarm, dumb ass! Leave that fucking watch alone, get out of that astronaut suit you're wearing and into your Superman costume, because you have to fly to Wake The Fuck Upville! So, I did. I got up, stared at the clock and realized...ever groggily, that I had gotten up late. What the fuck is wrong with me? I mean I...huh? The Superman costume? I didn't realize I would have to explain that...uh...you need it. So anyway, I got up quickly and...huh? Why do you need it? Because...it's something...nevermind. Just drop it, okay. You wouldn't understand. Gah, oh...okay, fine. You need it to fly. Happy? You can only fly as Superman in dreams. I told you you wouldn't understand. Besides, what if I woke from a dream without first changing into it IN my dream. I'd just wake up confused, because of what I wear when I go to sleep.
This chick knows what I'm talking about.
So, my shitty day wore on and I end up seriously passing out later anyway. I didn't WANT to piss my day away, but, I did. I was supposed to be submitting the shit out of some Cracked.com articles. Instead, I had a mild alcohol related sleep hiccup that softcore raped my schedule. Will it happen tomorrow? Shit yeah! I'm getting trashed right now. Lesson learned? Nope. Drunken Elton is here to stay for a while and he's barely standing. Goodbye brain cells. Hello damaged liver!
What did I have to do again?