Great Day in the Morning!

Listen, I know I've been neglecting you of late and when I have been around these parts I've been largely unintelligible, even by my already-low standards. Here's the deal: I went on one of my patented "ten-day see-saw benders," whereby I drink till 6 A.M. one night, stay in the next and then, like it says right there on the shampoo bottle, rinse and repeat as necessary.

By the time Monday rolled around I was pretty strung out and facing a return to the habitrail. Kate organized (read: bullied us into having) a picnic, which, to be fair, turned out to be lovely. Then it evolved into a BBQ at the Potseys, and that, too, was delightful. What none of us could've foreseen was the incident at the 'Shine. I'm still not ready to talk about it, frankly. All I'll say is this: Matt, little Baby Jesus was on life support for a while there, but he pulled through.

Anyway, 2:30 found me finally drifting off to sleep, a sleep that was brought to a jarring end by the peal of the smoke detector. Turns out the battery's dead. Anywho... I never really got back to sleep and had to slog through Tuesday here at the Branch.

Tuesday I redoubled my efforts to be good, but it was to no avail as what should have been a case of Sundaynitis or even Mondaynitis morphed into a soul-sucking case of the here-to-fore never experienced Tuesdaynitis, a vicious beast indeed.

So Wednesday was to be "My Day." I would get some sleep, relax, eat a healthy meal, drink lots of water. But then Frankenpunk called and told me I was needed on the Lower East Side. After meeting my obligations I trudged home to the 'Shine (and there it is, I just referred to a bar as "home." Yeesh.) to watch the Sox dismantle the A's. (Remember when the Sox first got hot and every body was all "well wait till they play the AL West...” Well, I think we've made plain how much we fear the iron of the AL West. Please. Can we just play the Cards now and get it over with? But I digress.) Around about the sixth inning, with the game well in hand, I order my first and last cocktail of the evening, a belt of Jamesons to help put me down. Well before the heat of the whiskey had left my chest, my phone rang.

With God as my witness, I will get a good night's sleep tonight.

Really.

I mean it.

Stop laughing at me, damnit!


But to get back to my original point, I wanna throw my girl Lisa a little love. The Astros' bandwagon has been hitched to Clemens' beefy ass and is leaving the station, making stops in The Cubbies Are Sucking Wind Junction and Barry and the Aints Depot. Well played!


So I just spell-checked and proof read the above and I have clealry lost my mind. I'm looking for a volunteer to stage my intervention. Anybody? Show of hands...