True to our name, this is the third Saturday in a row that I’ve been a varying level of blackout after a round of golf. This doesn’t happen at the course, but rather later that night when my body decides to stop even attempting to keep up with all the shit I keep pouring into it. This all falls well into my plan of dying before I turn 38. My liver does not find that joke amusing.Anyhow, after passing out in an alley for a good bit of time late Saturday night, I finally stumbled my way to a cab and headed home. It was only there that I discovered my wallets and pockets were a little lighter. How is it that I always lose phones and credit cards after nights like these, and never my anal virginity? Certainly one of life’s greatest mysteries. I figure at this point I should start asking the government for tax credits for my phone donations to the homeless.
No comments:
Post a Comment